Define Kiss
by scarlett2u
Summary: The kiss was a case of mistaken identity, but did that mean it was a mistake? Chuck/Blair season 1 AU starting with "The Wild Brunch."
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was the click of the door that startled Blair awake.

Nate was back!

Relief sent a rush of adrenaline through her system, chasing away the remaining cobwebs of drowsiness. She had another chance and she wasn't going to waste it.

Chuck had given her the key to his suite, calling it "the key to Nate's heart and her own future happiness." She had spared no time putting her plan into action.

Even Gossip Girl had described their joint exit from the brunch as "hot and heavy."

It was going to happen.

It was finally going to happen.

And then they found Serena in the suite.

It was so not happening.

Oh, Nate and Serena had both made excuses. They needed to talk…about how they weren't talking? How stupid did they think Blair was? She might be a romantic, but she was by no means naïve. She'd gone at them, voice raised and eyes blazing. And Serena had (wisely) beaten a hasty retreat.

The only problem was that Nate had chased after the runaway blonde, leaving Blair fuming and frustrated. She would not follow. She'd just wait here until one or the other of them returned and then she'd give them another piece of her mind. She slumped down on the edge of the bed, arms crossed defiantly.

She waited.

And waited.

And then waited some more.

Deciding she might as well get comfortable, she removed her headband, kicked off her pumps and sank back into the multitude of pillows. Leave it to Chuck Bass to have a bed that was decadently luxurious.

It was almost relaxing, lying there plotting her revenge….

* * *

How long had she been asleep? The late afternoon sun had given way to twilight and the room was now shrouded in shadows. Still, she could make out Nate's form in silhouette, paused inside the doorway.

This was it. She forgot about her plans for revenge (at least temporarily) and reverted to her former plan of attack: seduction.

Blair sat up and slid off the edge of the bed, releasing the side zipper on her oh-so-prim lace dress and quickly pulling it down and stepping out of the frock. Then she was standing in the darkened room in just a silky chemise slip and her stockings.

He never knew what hit him. One minute he was just standing there, trying to let his eyes adjust to the lack of light, and the next she was in his arms.

He tried to say something.

She reached up and ran her fingers lightly over his lips, closing them. "No more talking. Please? Just kiss me."

Then she replaced her fingers with her mouth.

Her lips touched his for the merest second, but it felt like she'd been struck by lightning. All conscious thought escaped her brain and there was nothing left but a driving need to have more of his lips.

It was perfect, the kind of kiss she'd dreamed of her whole life. Blair threw herself into it wholeheartedly, holding nothing back and deepening their connection. It was like she was trying to drink him in.

He responded in kind. He wasn't rushed or hurried; he kissed her like they had all night…and oh how she hoped they did. His arms came round her waist, pulling her closer, and then his hands slid up her arms and across her shoulders. Everywhere he touched felt electrified and alive. Every inch of her cried out for more of him. Why-oh-why hadn't he ever kissed her like this before?

Her heart almost broke when he pulled away, then elation rose like a phoenix within her chest when he began to kiss his away across her cheek. The feather-light brushes of his lips across the curve of her face deepened into very different kisses down the column of her neck. He was tasting her, savoring her on a long, languid descent down to her shoulder.

Oh, God, she could barely breathe, and when his tongue found the sweet little niche at the base of her throat and laved it, her fingers involuntarily tightened on his shoulders and a little sound escaped her lips. She sincerely hoped she hadn't just mewed like a kitten, but it was a distinct possibility. A possibility that seemed even more likely when she began purring in his ear as he kissed his way across the top of her shoulder.

When his lips returned to her mouth, her tongue was waiting, anticipating what was to come. It teased his upper lip, inviting his tongue to come out and play. When it did and velvet met velvet in a lingering caress, the dance truly began.

It was more than a kiss, it was a blissful awakening.

Why had it never been this way before? Everything was different.

He tasted like scotch…and cigarettes…and secrets.

He smelled even better: fresh pressed linen and some kind of musky cologne that complemented rather than concealed the natural musk under it.

The way their bodies fit together, her face in the crook of his neck…just the right angle to plant slow kisses…and glory in the little hum of appreciation she felt go through him.

He'd never done that before.

He'd never held her the way he was right now either - meeting her passion for passion, holding her so tightly, like he couldn't get enough of her. One hand curled around her waist; the other caressed and then squeezed her thigh. She felt sexy, wanted…wanton. Whereas she was used to feeling like she had to be in charge, had to force him almost to pay attention to her, to recognize her presence.

Tonight he was different, so different…like he might almost be a different person altogether….

Her fingers slid from entwining in his hair…down to his collar…and further still down his chest, which felt strong and solid, but different.

She felt the buttons on his shirt, which should've been covered by a tie in a Windsor knot…

Then she reached up and felt it: a bow tie with points still crisp.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

OH, GOD, NO!

She let a gasp of breath and automatically reached for the lamp on the bedside table.

It felt like the room was suddenly flooded with light and her eyelids squeezed shut involuntarily.

When she dared open them, there he was.

She was so shocked she slapped his arm and recoiled in horror.

"Chuck, what are you doing here?!" It was meant to come out as a forceful demand, but her voice sounded raspy and dreamy, even to her own ears.

He seemed to recover faster than she did, though his voice was raspy as well. "It is, after all, my suite," he reminded her.

"But I have the key!"

"You have _a_ key, yes, but clearly not the only one." He pulled a second key out of his pants pocket and held it up for her to see, twisting it between his fingers in a parody of his earlier offer at brunch.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "That doesn't explain why you marched in here and kissed me. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that if this is a new style of turndown service, I very much like it. And while I hate to argue, it was _you_ who kissed me."

"I thought you were Nate!"

"Please, you insult me," he drawled. "Nate's been gone for hours. He left here chasing Serena, with the two of them followed by that person from Brooklyn. You wouldn't catch me fleeing such a tempting treat. You're amazing, Waldorf." He reached out, tipping up her chin, and touched plump lips still swollen from his kisses. "That cool exterior…but, oh, the fire below."

She jumped back as if his touch burned her, even as color bloomed more brightly on her cheeks. "You had no business kissing me back. It was dark and I didn't know what I was doing."

"Au contraire, my fair Blair," his voice dropped even lower, "when it comes to kisses, you most definitely know what you are doing. Though it was unforgettable, perhaps I could interest you in an encore? After all, my suite…and my kisses…are still available."

"You're heinous!"

"So you say," he shrugged. "But c'mon, didn't it feel delicious and just the littlest bit naughty kissing me senseless with no thought of your ex-boyfriend or your best friend?"

"Nate's still my boyfriend. And I'm not like Serena!"

"But if he weren't?" Chuck mused. "I hate to think of all that…," he looked her over from head to foot, "potential and heat going to waste."

She felt exposed, almost naked, and reached for her dress. "Look, this was a simple case of mistaken identity." She pulled the dress up and slid her bare arms into the sleeves. "I thought you were Nate and I kissed you. Now I'm going to forget this ever happened and you should too." The sound of her zipper being pulled added an air of finality to the discussion.

But he wasn't done yet.

"You're forgetting a couple of things."

"What's that?" She replaced her headband and slid into her shoes before turning back to face him.

"That was no ordinary kiss. You can't expect me to believe you've ever been kissed like that before."

"Why not? Nate and I have been together forever. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand this: no sane man could ever taste those sweet lips…," his gaze lingered on her mouth, "Or hear those little purrs when I kiss you right here," his fingers traced the most sensitive spot on her neck, "Or smell your perfume and your hair," he wound a lock around his finger, "and ever forget it."

She gasped when his fingers found that sensitive spot on her neck. How had he found it in mere minutes when she'd never even known it existed?

She needed to get out of here.

She needed air.

She needed him more than breath in her body.

She moved toward the door.

"It was just a kiss. You'll forget it before midnight."

"Will you?"

Damn, why did he have to be looking at her so intently when he asked that question?

Her hand was on the doorknob. She was almost safe….

"Oh, Blair, one more thing…."

"Yes?" She heaved an impatient sigh.

"You say you didn't know it was me, but I always knew it was you."

"Goodnight, Chuck." She managed to close the door quietly behind her before running for the elevator as if all the hounds of hell were after her.

* * *

As far as Blair was concerned, the incident was in the rearview mirror and completely out of her thoughts.

She wasn't thinking about that kiss when Nate came over to apologize.

Or when she halfheartedly agreed to forgive him.

Or when he tried to pull her close, but she simply held his hand.

Goodbye, mistake….

* * *

Chuck Bass could not think of anything but that kiss.

Not when one of the Grecian statue performance artists was wrapped around him, trying in vain to raise his interest…

Not when Gossip Girl sent out a blast about the events of the brunch…

Not when his bedsheets still smelled like Blair…

It was long past midnight and he couldn't eat, couldn't sleep.

He could only hope the following day would bring some relief, because he was very much afraid that one kiss with Blair Waldorf had ruined his life.

To Be Continued in Chapter 2

* * *

Author's Note: Hello, readers! I just couldn't resist a little travel back in time to season 1.

Special thanks to SnowedUnderNJ for inspiring this idea, and to Chrys1130 and Shrk22 for being faithful friends and cheerleaders.

What will happen next? And what do you think of what's happening so far? Reviews make excellent birthday presents.

Xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

_Last time in the Kissverse: Blair was waiting for Nate in Chuck's suite and she surprised him with a kiss. But the surprise was on her, because uh-oh, the guy with whom she had shared that magical kiss wasn't Nate._

Chapter 2

Blair Waldorf woke up to a new day. The sun was shining and the angels (well, it was really the Constance Billard Girls Choir) were singing and all was right with the world.

The events of the previous day were gone and forgotten. She and Nate were starting over. The fairy tale lived on!

The bell had just rung and students were scattering to get to their first class. As she went up the steps, Blair turned her head and looked back at her prince in the courtyard. In a perfect world, he'd be looking her way and their eyes would meet and they would have an entire conversation without uttering a word…

But this was not that world.

Her prince was distracted by something one of his cronies was saying…

And Chuck Bass's eyes were the ones connecting with hers and burning a hole through her, like he could see into her soul…

She forced herself to take a breath. This would not do. She had told him to forget about their accidental kiss yesterday. She certainly had. Except for that dream. About the lake…and the sun…and his lips… But what her cranium chose to dwell on in her unconscious hours was its own business. She had no control over her subconscious cinema, but she was going to put a stop to this right now.

"Nate!" she called his name and headed back down the steps.

He paused, waved and came over to meet her.

This, this was how it was supposed to be. So she kissed her boyfriend, the right boy, in full view of all onlookers—especially the one with the dark eyes and the sinful lips.

When the kiss was over, she looked around and Chuck was gone. Mission accomplished!

* * *

Chuck didn't look at her again for the rest of the school day.

That should have felt good. Goodbye, stalker; hello again, fairy tale!

Instead, it was somewhat disconcerting. Was she so easily forgotten? Who could forget a kiss like that? The more she thought about it, the more it rankled.

Was he really not paying attention to her? She decided to test it out. She ate her yogurt parfait very slowly, letting her tongue catch any little dribbles that might want to linger on her lips. If he were watching, he couldn't miss that.

He missed it entirely.

Irritation flared. Fine, it was what she expected anyway. She'd been right to tell him to forget it ever happened.

Who needed Chuck Bass? Certainly not her.

* * *

Maybe she needed Chuck Bass.

It was not a decision Blair made lightly, but after the field hockey throwdown with Serena, it was clear that physical intimidation was not going to work. After all, Nate and Serena had always been the more athletic members of their little quartet.

What she needed was brainpower and a scheming partner worthy of her. Kati and Iz, while being perfectly capable minions and providers of basic first aid, were not going to make the cut. She needed someone who was her equal. Someone who might enjoy getting in on the ground floor of a scandal.

The choice was clear.

But would he be willing to collaborate with her after the previous day's events?

Of course he would! She'd told him to forget and he'd forgotten. This only proved he could take orders well. A useful skill in a partner.

So she made the call, only to be foiled when it went straight to voicemail.

She was nibbling her lip in vexation while letting her minions tend to her "wounded" shin when her phone trilled.

She skipped the usual niceties. "Finally!"

He was amused by her impatience…and by the earlier Gossip Girl blast about her fight with Serena. He made a crude comment about mouth guards, short shirts and his hope that the incident had been filmed.

Bass was back to business as usual. Although Blair pretended to be disgusted by his remarks, she was secretly relieved and sent her minions away so that she could outline her scheme in private.

When she hung up the phone a few minutes later, she was feeling very pleased.

* * *

"Mom, how's Paris?" It wasn't her mom, but Nate, who was lounging at the other end of the sofa and trying to comprehend the Dartmouth rep's book, didn't know that.

Chuck had been gathering intel and he'd struck information gold. He had news, big news, and he was on his way over to share it.

Blair ended the connection and looked over at her boyfriend, still trying to plough through the thick paperback.

He was just going to have to go.

* * *

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Blair Waldorf was alone in a bedroom with Chuck Bass.

And all was as it should be.

Her school uniform, crowned with a sassy headband, lent an air of propriety to the meeting. Seated in front of her computer looking over the pictures he'd taken of Serena going into the Ostroff Center, she was totally focused on the task at hand.

She wasn't thinking about how close he was standing behind her, hovering over her shoulder.

Or how the timbre of his voice by her ear was sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise on her arms.

Or that she hadn't been imagining things the day before: he really did smell that good.

She was a woman on a mission, a mission that he was an integral part of helping her achieve.

"If you weren't such a perv, I'm sure the CIA would hire you in a second."

He made some remark about how he'd never envisioned that future, but she wasn't really listening. She was instead picturing him in a classic spy movie. Maybe James Bond, perfectly at home in the ballroom or bedroom with a sexy British accent and bespoke tailoring. Look how well he wore the St. Jude's uniform….

Focus, focus. "What can she be doing there?" Blair mused, looking back to the photos.

"What is anyone doing there? It's a facility for the disturbed and addicted." He moved away and paced about the room.

Without missing a beat, she replied, "You must have your own wing."

It could've been a harsh comment, but she gave him a warm smile as she said it.

He turned around then, and smiled back at her. "You don't get nearly enough credit for your wit." He sounded amused, even proud.

He sounded especially proud when she announced how she planned to use the intel he'd acquired: Total Social Destruction. Of course he was up for that.

He came to a stop before her neatly made bed. "So this is your bed, huh?"

Naturally, the conversation was degenerating into the suggestive. It wouldn't be long before it reached downright lewd. She was putting a stop to this, right here and right now.

"Leaving. Now." She pointed to the door.

"Are you sure?" He was lingering.

At her puzzled look, he continued, "Sure you want me to leave without another kiss?"

"In case you've forgotten, my boyfriend is your best friend."

"He seemed to have forgotten that easily enough with _your_ best friend, so why be shy?"

That was a difficult point to argue.

She sighed, "Look, Chuck, it was just a kiss. I didn't mean for it to happen and I told you to forget about it. I have," she declared breezily.

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have any trouble eating dinner last night? Or sleeping? Maybe you dreamed about us?"

Could he see into her mind? She tried not to show how very rattled she was by that.

"Maybe you feel sick…like there's something in your stomach…fluttering."

The conversation was becoming even more uncomfortable.

"Butterflies?" She tried to pass it off with a laugh. "From a single kiss? Why are you having so much trouble forgetting a kiss?"

"Well, that depends." His reply was enigmatic at best.

"Depends on what?" Her voice rose.

He moved closer towards her. "How you define kiss."

"Define kiss?" she echoed again.

"Yes." His hand came up to her face and his index finger traced the outline of her mouth. "If you mean a mere touch of lips, I can see why that might be dismissed, but it so much more than that. It was an exploration…a discovery." His finger slowed and swirled over the plumpness of her lower lip before seeking out the Cupid's bow of the upper.

The touch was hypnotizing her, seducing her. Involuntarily, her lips puckered slightly and placed the lightest of kisses on the pad of his finger.

They jumped apart then, as if a bolt of lightning had gone through them both. And then his lips were on hers.

She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She could only respond.

His tongue teased the outline of her lips, coaxing her tongue to dance with his. It seemed to last forever, but it was over all too soon.

"I tasted you, Waldorf." His mouth was right there by hers; they were almost breathing the same air. "And it was amazing. _You're_ amazing. Definitely not tongue-shy."

He was looking at her and color bloomed in her cheeks. "That bold tongue…and that innocent blush. Such a contrast."

He dropped a light kiss on her cheek, before moving over to her neck. "This neck…," he started kissing his way down. "And this one extra sensitive spot," he found it again with his tongue and she was powerless to do anything but squeeze her eyes shut in bliss and cry out.

"Those little noises you make…I can't stop thinking about them. They keep replaying in my head…." He went back to the sensitive spot and tasted it again.

She was surprised to hear the noise again.

"Mm, yes, just like that." His hands slid over her shoulders and down her arms, leaving an electrified trail in their wake.

He was whispering in her ear. "You know, your cheeks aren't the only place you blush." His fingers traced across the bodice of her shirt. "Right here, near the edge of the lace on your slip, your skin was all rosy, like I could see the fire below the surface of your skin.

"And I could feel these," he was cupping her breasts now, his fingers teasing and tweaking nipples that even through her shirt, camisole and bra were straining to be closer to his hands. "I can't see them, but I bet they're drawn up into tight little points, just begging for me to kiss…and lick…and…."

She gasped. "Chuck, stop!" she begged. "You have to stop this. We have to stop this."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He moved his hands to the more neutral territory of her waist before removing them from her person entirely.

She paused and bit her lip. "Nate-," she began.

"Is not here," he finished for her. "I'm guessing you sent him home."

She frowned. "Of course I did. There was scheming to be done."

"I'm guessing he wouldn't approve of your plotting against Serena."

She shrugged, though she knew Chuck was right.

"But that's not the only reason," he said smugly.

"Oh? What other reason would there be?"

"The reason you kissed Nate in the courtyard this morning—while you were staring at me. And why you put on that little show at lunch."

"What little show? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't you? I seem to recall some droplets of yogurt right here," he traced her lower lip with his finger, "and you very seductively licking them away."

"How would you know? You weren't even looking!" She realized what she'd just admitted and closed her mouth firmly.

He grinned then. "There's not much about you that I miss, Blair. And I think you wanted me to kiss you again – as much as I wanted to. To see if it was as amazing as we thought."

She scoffed, "You have a very high opinion of your kisses."

"And I keep telling you, that was not a normal kiss. Admit it."

"We shouldn't even be having this conversation," she pointed out.

"But we are. And it's all we've been thinking about."

She rolled her eyes. "So you believe."

"So I know." One of his hands glided over the curve of her hip, down to her knee and then it began a torturously slow ascent up one silk stocking. It teased the elastic top of the hose before venturing onto her bare skin.

She gasped and gaped at him with eyes wide with shock…and temptation.

"Your skin is like silk," he whispered. "I could tell you I'm sorry for kissing you again, but we both know that wouldn't be true."

His fingers had moved even higher and were currently flirting with the lacy edges of her La Perlas.

And then they stroked her in the most intimate of places.

Someone gasped, though neither was sure which.

Their bodies froze.

Their eyes met and held.

She waited for him to gloat, to argue he now had evidence that she wanted him.

But he didn't.

He merely brought his fingers to his lips and tasted her essence on them, all the while never taking his eyes off hers.

She felt panicked…and exposed…and naked, even though they were both fully dressed.

Her fight-or-flight response kicked in and was screaming "Fly, fly, fly!"

She wriggled in his arms. "Chuck, you have to let me go," she said gently.

"There's just one problem with that," he gestured at her fingers clenched tight on his shoulders, "You're the one holding me."

Slowly, she took her hands off his shoulders and stepped away from him. "Goodbye, Chuck," she whispered.

He took her hand for a moment and turning it over, placed a lingering kiss on her palm. The heat of it spread through her hand, then up her wrist, her arm, all the way to her chest.

He turned to go…and then turned around again and tilted her chin up to face him.

He was studying her, almost memorizing her features, his own face moving ever closer to hers.

Involuntarily, her eyes closed.

"Don't close your eyes," he whispered. "I want you to see." He turned them around to face the pier glass mirror.

"See?"

"You're unforgettable."

He kissed her cheek and left her standing her there, heart and mind racing.

She had never been more confused.

To Be Continued in Chapter 3

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for your response to the previous chapter. I loved every single review, follow and favorite.

You may have noticed that I have a special fondness for season 1 Chair. There's so much chemistry and potential there. I think that no matter how the events of that season went down, they would still have ultimately ended up together. They were, as Chuck pointed out, inevitable.

Speaking of Chuck, we'll get more his POV in the next chapter. Oh, yes, readers, I have plans.

Special thanks to Shrk22 and Almaloney33 for the read-over, and to SnowedUnderNJ for calming me down when I temporarily got stalled in the middle of a scene.

Thoughts about this chapter or what's to come? Reviews are inspiration and joy.

Until next time,

Xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

_Last time in the Kissverse: She wanted him to kiss her again—as much as he wanted to himself. To see if it was as amazing as they thought. (It was!)_

Chapter 3

"Chuck, I need you," Blair whispered the words into his ear as one hand seductively slid over his shoulder and down his chest.

"As my lady commands." He was tracing her collarbone in tiny kisses, leaving behind a necklace of tingling, hypersensitized skin in his wake.

"Mmm."

He loved the way she responded to him…

Until she began to laugh.

"There's just one thing, Chuck: It can't be you. It can never be you." She slid out of his arms, dancing away further out of his sight until all that was left was the echo of her laughter…

* * *

Chuck sat straight up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Another bad dream. Another Blair dream. Asleep or awake, she was all he could think about lately.

Which was crazy, because what was the point?

She was still committed to her fantasy of Prince Charming, who happened to be his best friend. Even if that boyfriend had cheated on her with her own best friend. Even if Nate had told Chuck that after the kiss in the courtyard before school, Blair had looked at him strangely, like he was "doing it wrong or something." She might still be attached, but, oh, yes, she felt it too.

And if she wasn't attached? Well, he didn't do girlfriends. Why settle for one flower when you could enjoy the whole garden? He was Chuck Bass, after all.

He didn't even know how this had come about, this half-pursuit of her. What would he do if, instead of denying their chemistry, she embraced the idea of him, of them. The idea was terrifying.

Like she'd said, it was just a couple of kisses.

Soul-stirring, life-changing kisses.

He would be fine; she would be fine…except she hadn't seemed fine after her intended takedown of Serena at the charity event. When he'd caught up to her, she'd been pale and obviously upset. Once he learned that the real patient at the Ostroff Center was Serena's brother Eric, Chuck understood. Blair had a warrior's heart. Fierce in war and equally fierce when it came to people she cared about. She might have been looking to punish Serena, but never to hurt Eric.

Still, something must have changed, because Gossip Girl reported that evening that the girls had reconciled in Central Park. Damn, he'd been hoping for video of a make-up kiss, but it seemed he was fresh out of luck in the scandals department these days.

Maybe if he hurried, he could make it to school somewhat on time and get the latest from Queen B herself.

He refused to believe that his eagerness to see Blair could be anything more than simple curiosity and disappointment at not being in on the ground floor of that scandal.

Getting ready required more time than expected. Becoming Chuck Bass was not a thing that could be rushed; there were no sartorial shortcuts. He never looked like he'd rolled right out of bed, unless he expressly wanted to make that impression. Though the dress code required a certain consistency in look, Chuck's uniform was expertly tailored and well accessorized. His hair was styled with a light touch and a close shave ensured a jawline that was a flawlessly smooth work of art.

It took even more time to stop for coffee at Sant Ambroeus, but he needed the caffeine.

At last, he arrived on campus with one mission: find Blair.

His eyes scanned the sea of students mingling outside. And then, he saw her…

Smiling.

Laughing.

Wrapped in some other guy's arms.

It only took a split second for the wave of emotions to course through him.

Fury. Rage. Envy. Hurt.

Which was crazy, absurd even, because the guy he wanted to march over and physically pull off Blair, the one he wanted to knock down and push away…was his own best friend.

And would Blair have thanked him for it? Hardly. This was her dream, what (and who) she'd always wanted. Of course she was all smiles. How could he even think of standing in the way of that?

It was madness.

Chuck Bass might pride himself on being the ultimate bad boy, but he was equally proud of being a good friend. At least he always had been before.

Almost as if she sensed him there, Blair looked up and over at him, the smile in her eyes immediately giving way to confusion…and something else.

He didn't want to think about what it was he saw in her eyes.

All he knew was that it was now painfully obvious what he'd really wanted this morning: to see her, to talk to her, to kiss her again.

And that was not happening—could not happen again.

He forced the corners of his mouth up, raised his cup of coffee in a silent salute and nodded at her.

Goodbye, mistake.

Except he couldn't convince himself it was a mistake. From the very second she'd launched herself into his arms, he'd known it wasn't. It might have been temporary insanity on his part, possibly some amnesia in forgetting that he was Chuck Bass….

She was making him both mentally and physically ill.

But that was ending right now. He had a Lost Weekend to host and some kisses to forget.

Goodbye, butterflies.

* * *

If Constance Billard had its queen in Blair Waldorf, then St. Jude's monarch was Chuck Bass. Though school administrators and other parents might bemoan that he was a bad influence, there was no denying that he possessed influence…and was not afraid to use it.

Right now he was surveying Phase 1 of his annual Lost Weekend. His suite was packed to the gills with students and ladies of the evening. Snacks. Drinks. Cards. It looked a lot less like a hotel suite and more like an upscale gentlemen's club.

Chuck was ready to officially kick off the festivities.

"You've lived through Ivy Week," he addressed the crowd, "And hopefully gained entry to the college of your choice. Now, let's ruin those chances." He managed to make that sound like a very desirable state of affairs.

"Let me remind you of the rules: As of this moment, there is no outside world that I do not show you. You eat what I provide, practice what I preach, and 'til I say so, the only girls you talk to are the ones I've paid for. Let the Lost Weekend commence!"

A loud cheer went through the crowd. Clearly, they didn't have a problem with those guidelines. Chuck felt himself relax. There was nothing to get in his way of a weekend of carousing and bro-bonding, nothing except…

Carter Baizen.

The original CB. He'd given them their first instruction in underage debauchery and now he was back to see if the students had become the masters.

Chuck should've been thrilled to see Carter walk in; Nate certainly was. But Chuck needed no help in corrupting the current crop of partygoers. He was the only CB whose presence was required.

Yet here was Baizen, being greeted with literally open arms by Nate and preaching the doctrine of rebellion against their comfortable lifestyle.

Boo hoo hoo.

Oh, the burden of wearing bespoke tailoring, living in one of the best hotels in the city and traveling to amazing locales around the globe. He liked being Chuck Bass and the accompanying perks that came with that role, thank you very much. And he resented being guilt-tripped over it by someone wearing threadbare rags with an ironic surplus of hair product.

He rolled his eyes in disgust at Nate's starry eyed hero worship of their vagabond visitor. If his best friend would rather play cards with the uninvited guest than partake of the pleasures the party had to offer, then so be it.

More girls for Chuck.

More girls who weren't Blair.

More girls who didn't smell like Chanel No. 5 and secret kisses.

More girls who didn't have perfectly shaped, perfectly soft lips and a bold tongue.

More girls who didn't look up at him with dark, bewitching eyes and make purring noises in his ear while holding him like they would never let him go.

This was not helping.

Maybe he needed more than two? (Two other girls or two so-wrong-it's-right kisses with Blair?)

* * *

When he awoke several hours later, he was alone, and then she was there in the doorway, in that sexy slip and silky stockings.

"Blair," his voice was hoarse with sleep, "you're not supposed to be here. How did you get in?"

She held up 2 fingers that were displaying a key. "You gave me this, remember? Told me it was a key to happiness."

He nodded dumbly.

She set the key down on the bedside table and slid into the bed next to him.

He didn't waste time protesting or overanalyzing, he simply took her in his arms and let his hands glide over her, pulling her closer to him.

The kiss was perfect. Nothing could be more perfect…until….

"So," she whispered in his ear, her lips perilously close to his neck, "I'm going to make you very happy." Her fingers teased the buttons on his shirt, some of which were already open, before they moved to his zipper.

The sound of her sigh and the zipper lowering were the sexiest sounds he'd ever heard.

The gasp startled him, even more when he realized it was his own…and he was alone…and it was only a dream again.

He sat up and reached for his scotch glass. He was going to need some more liquor, because he didn't know how he was ever going to get back to sleep.

* * *

It wasn't until Phase 2 at the basketball court that Chuck finally managed to rid them of the insidious Carter. But, before he could breathe a sigh of relief, he had to soothe Nate's ruffled feathers about Carter's exit.

What was wrong with his best friend? Was Nate blind? How could he not see that the older boy was a freeloader and a hypocrite? It was right there in front of him.

Maybe the fact that he'd slept so poorly was contributing to Chuck's irritability—but that didn't mean he was wrong.

The cardio of the game and a rest after prepared him for the coming evening's festivities.

It was time for Phase 3.

Being the showman that he was, Chuck was first out of the limo, whirling around, arms spread wide.

"Phase 3. Pub crawl. Five boroughs." He began ushering the other boys into the Irish pub. "Fifty pubs. 500 chances to get laid."

The guys eagerly headed into the bar, with only Nate lingering behind.

"I'm not coming," he announced to Chuck.

His friend had clearly lost his mind. He was willing to ruin what promised to be a truly epic evening because of Carter Baizen? Chuck tried to talk him out of it, but Nate was firmly committed to how much better life was in "the real world." What did he think they were living in-some imaginary world inside a kid's snow globe somewhere?

They were what the world aspired to. Why feel bad about that? From where he was standing, it didn't look like Nate had it so bad. He had two parents who cared about him, an entrée into the Ivy of his family's choice, and an amazingly hot girlfriend whose kisses still burned on Chuck's lips. So what did he want?

Chuck asked him as much.

Of course, Nate couldn't really articulate what that was; he stumbled and stammered to come up with an answer.

Chuck did what any good friend would do: he gave him some much-needed advice. "Figure out what it is you do want, before you lose everything and everyone and end up with nothing."

Nate wasn't listening. Instead, he was looking down at an incoming text on his phone. And then he was walking away.

Chuck sighed in frustration. "Now, where are you going?"

There was no answer. He was left standing alone outside the pub entrance.

And that's when he saw it. A dark, furtive movement out of the corner of his eye.

What the hell? Baizen really didn't have the temerity to be showing up again, did he?

He strolled into the shadows, away from the glare of the streetlights. And there she was.

"Blair, what are you doing here?" It was just like his dream. This was real, wasn't it?

Color rose on her cheeks and she appeared flustered, not quite meeting his eyes.

He took a closer look at her. "You're wearing your beret. And your Chanel ballet flats. Hmm, who are you spying on tonight?"

Before she could answer, he did so for her: "Nate, of course. We can't have Prince Charming escaping from the palace unsupervised, can we?"

"I am not spying on Nate," she spat. "If you must know…," she fumbled for words.

"If you're not here for Nate, dare I hope you've come to join me?"

What the hell was he doing? She'd told him that first kiss was a mistake. She'd gone running back to her precious prince after the second as well. He'd decided to bow out, for sanity's sake. But here she was, standing in the dark, all flustered and flushing in that charming way of hers. It made him think of all the places her skin glowed when she blushed.

How was he supposed to maintain his self-imposed banishment from Blair if she was the one following him?!

"Please," she scoffed, "as if I'd be here for you. I was just…"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her around the side of the pub, under the light so that he could see her better. "Well, if you're here for Nate, you're out of luck. He just got a text and left, I'm assuming for a card game with Carter Baizen."

Her face wrinkled in confusion. "Carter Baizen?! Why on earth would he be hanging out with that unkempt malcontent?"

Chuck couldn't help it. He had to smile. Blair understood. "He crashed my Lost Weekend, so you see, you're not the first, I'm sorry to disappoint."

"Get over yourself, Bass, though I'd recommend calling an exterminator if Baizen was in your suite. You don't want to take any chances with a vermin infestation."

There was that biting wit again. He didn't think about it before his fingers curled under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "That sharp tongue. So talented in so many ways."

She tried to hide her sudden intake of breath.

"So maybe you're here for a goodnight kiss?" The words rolled seductively off his tongue.

She scoffed again. "Don't you have enough prospects tonight? '500 chances to get laid,' I think you said? Do you really think you'll need that many?" The sarcasm was dripping from her voice.

"Not really," he shrugged. "But maybe I'm willing to trade all 500 of them…," he moved even closer and traced her lower lip with the tip of his finger, "for one more kiss with you."

He'd gone too far. She was going to deliver another of her barbed comments and then leave. And he deserved it, he knew. But damn, he just wasn't ready to wake up from this living dream yet. And Nate was an idiot if didn't appreciate this particularly charming part of his charmed life.

She looked like she was trying to figure out what to say to him next, but her head tilted almost imperceptibly, just the slightest bit, but it was enough of an invitation for him.

As always, when their lips touched, everything else faded away and there was only the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her.

He was completely under her spell.

How long had they stood there, tongues entwined and souls enthralled? He had no idea, but this had to stop.

He tried to pull away, but her mouth seemed to cling to his and a little mewl of disappointment escaped her lips. It physically hurt to stop kissing her.

When he opened his eyes, he discovered the look on her face was mirrored by his own.

She'd come down here for him.

He'd left his friends behind for her.

They had a very big problem.

"Come on, let's get you home." He opened his phone and dialed Arthur, who was still close by and pulled up to the curb within minutes.

Chuck opened the door and allowed Blair to slide inside. She raised an eyebrow when he slid in after her.

"I can hardly let you go home unescorted," he pointed out.

"But five boroughs, fifty pubs," she reminded him.

Chuck shrugged. "I'm sure I'll catch up to them at some point."

"I do need to my beauty sleep tonight. I have an early call tomorrow. I'm going to do some modeling for my mother's new line tomorrow." She sounded somewhere in between proudly pleased and shy about the admission.

"That's great!" He knew that Eleanor's attention and approval was equally as rare as Bart's.

Without thinking about it, he took her hand, squeezed it, and then found he didn't want to let it go.

"It's an all-day shoot. You could stop by if you wanted…" She hadn't intended to ask, but now it was out there anyway.

Chuck should say no. He knew he should. But he also knew this was important to her, however casual she might be acting about it, and she'd expressly asked him. He hesitated.

She tried to laugh it off. "Well, I'm sure you'll be busy with the end of Lost Weekend. It's fine. Really." She looked down again, away from their linked fingers.

"Of course I'll try to stop by." Had he just said that? Where had that came from? "Text me the address?"

"Sure." She smiled at him then.

They were friends.

Friends were supposed to support each other.

They would be in a room full of people.

What possible trouble could they get into?

* * *

When Chuck arrived at the set of the photoshoot the next afternoon, it was to a scene of chaos. Assistants were running around willy-nilly. The photographer and creative directors were arguing how best to proceed.

And Blair? Was nowhere to be found.

He finally tracked her down in a back room, gathering her belongings and preparing to leave.

"Blair, what's going on?"

"Apparently nothing." She tried to smile, but her eyes didn't quite match her mouth. "There was a change in plans for today's model and I forgot to text you again."

"A change in plans?"

She still wasn't looking at him. "Yes, my mother and the team decided to replace me with another model, namely Serena." There were tears in her eyes and her voice cracked slightly.

Chuck's jaw clenched in fury. Who couldn't find a professional model in Manhattan? Only Eleanor would be so insensitive as to replace her daughter with her daughter's best frenemy.

"You know, I think the worst part is that Serena acted like she wanted me to do this, then she stole it away from me and is trying to claim that it was all an accident and a misunderstanding." Anger and exhaustion were coming through in her words now.

"You don't believe her?"

Blair snorted. "She takes everything and everyone. Nate, my mom…."

"Not everyone," he reminded. "Not me." The words were quiet but firm.

She looked at him then, and smiled. A real smile he couldn't help returning.

"Besides, Serena may be many things, but do you think she's capable of that kind of plotting? I mean, you are the Queen of Scheme around here. Are you saying she's worthy competition for you in that area?"

"Of course not!" Blair rolled her eyes.

"Maybe you should consider that she really didn't know what was happening at the time and that she's guilty of being a little slow on the uptake, but not disloyal."

"Maybe," Blair seemed to be mulling that over when Serena came walking up to them.

"Blair, could I talk to you for a moment?" She glanced at him. "Chuck," she nodded.

"Well, that's my cue, ladies." He made to leave, before whispering to Blair under his breath, "If things end up in hair pulling or a make-up kiss, remember, I want video."

"You're heinous." She slapped him on the arm, but smiled as she said it.

* * *

Chuck had to smile when the Gossip Girl blast photos were published. Eleanor was an idiot to get rid of Blair as her model when she might have had both girls. They were stronger together and Serena brought out Blair's lighter side. Though he had to admit, no two-dimensional photo could really capture Blair's fire-and-ice essence.

Still, the photos in the Park and around the city were sexy. That backless dress with the little belt…it showcased an expanse of creamy skin and a tiny waist. Chuck wanted to touch every inch of that exposed skin, planting kisses from her hairline all the way down her back, on every single vertebra and not stop until he reached the base of her oh-so-supple spine. Then he would reverse direction and kiss his way up to that magical neck of hers…

But he could wait. There might even be some excruciating pleasure in that.

If their last kiss had taught him anything, it was that their next kiss was inevitable.

And he was more than ready for it.

To Be Continued in Chapter 4

* * *

Author's Note:

Mondays are brutal, so I hope this brings a little break to your day and a smile to your face.

What do you think, readers? Is their next kiss inevitable? Where and when might it happen?

Special thanks to my betas and to all my lovely readers, especially those who have followed, favorited and shared their thoughts in reviews. Looking forward to hearing from you again soon!

Xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

_Last time in the Kissverse: Chuck tried to stay away from Blair, but she crashed his Lost Weekend and they shared a goodnight kiss._

Chapter 4

If there was a feminine counterpart to Chuck Bass' Lost Weekend, it would surely be Blair Waldorf's Annual Sleepover.

Now in its seventh incarnation, the event had become, in the words of Gossip Girl, "more decadent" by the year.

Flowers.

Fruit trays.

Tea service.

Silver servers laden with goodies.

Racks of designer clothing, specially selected for each attendee's fashion tastes and needs.

And finally, trundle beds covered with the most luxurious of linens—though who planned on sleeping very much anyway?

Much effort had gone into this year's soiree, as Blair had extra time on her hands due to Nate being out of town with his family for some sailing thing. No expense or detail was spared.

So it was that early Friday morning Queen B found herself surreptitiously sliding the key into the door of Suite 1812 at the Palace Hotel. The room was dimly lit, with only the faint glow of a lamp on its lowest setting atop the dresser. She could see a lump in the bed and make out the handles on the dresser drawers. That was all she needed.

Methodically, she began opening each drawer, rummaging through the contents and cringing at each little at each squeak, rattle or bump that occurred despite her best efforts at maintaining total silence.

She glanced back at the lump in the bed.

Still safe.

When the object of her quest still hadn't turned up, Blair grew frustrated. She frowned, peering around the room for places it could be.

Aha, the closet!

She slipped inside, closing the door behind her and flicking on the light switch. Chuck's walk-in closet was a sight to behold. There were rows of bespoke suits and shelves of shirts in all manner of fabrics. Bow ties and cufflinks and accessories were arranged in an order that would've been pleasing to both Queen B and her Dorota.

Floor to ceiling, it was a glorious display. Blair whirled around, overwhelmed and unsure where to look first. Then she spied a familiar pattern out of the corner of her eye.

And there it was.

Draped on a stylized metal hook, it clearly had pride of place. Five feet of the finest silk in a patchwork pattern of navy, white and red squares, each accented by rows of polka dots in contrasting colors.

She reached out for it and just as her fingertips brushed the hand-knotted fringe, she felt a sudden movement behind her…

Without warning, she was pulled backward into strong arms, one of which snaked around her waist and squeezed her closer.

A deep voice, still husky with sleep, was right at her ear. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Pleasure was the word. Adrenaline flooded her veins as goosebumps rose on her arms and her eyelids fluttered shut. She made a token protest of trying to wriggle out of his arms, but all that did was provide a delicious friction as her body rocked against his.

She hoped he hadn't heard the little sigh that escaped from her lips, but she could tell even through the layers of clothing that separated them that he was not unaffected by their contact.

Panic set in and she stepped out of his arms and whirled around to face him. "None of your Bassness." She was aiming for sassy, but it sounded breathless, even to her own ears.

He looked at her knowingly. "Any morning I wake to find you in my suite—well, that is a good morning indeed—is a time I think I deserve to know why."

"I—I need something," she confessed.

"I need something too, but why are you rummaging in my closet? I had no idea you were so fond of my…accessories." His voice lingered over every syllable. "Don't you think maybe we should look in my bed?" He gestured to the room outside.

"I am not here for you or your bed," she announced. "I'm here for your scarf." Her fingers caressed the length of silk.

"My heart is broken," he mocked. "That scarf is my signature!"

"Which is exactly why I need it."

His brow furrowed. "Still not following."

"It's for my soiree this evening."

"Ah, yes, the annual sleepover. I'm still waiting for an invitation."

"Keep dreaming. Like that's ever going to happen!"

"Are you sure? I'm a good man to have on your side in a pillow fight…or under the sheets."

She ignored that last part. "It's for the Scavenger Hunt that will kick off the night. Each guest must bring something that's iconic and unattainable."

"Aren't you the hostess?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, but what kind of hostess would I be if I were not involved in the evening's activities? It's called setting the tone, Bass." She only sounded a little condescending.

"Why does it have to be my scarf? Why not just bring me? I fit the criteria," he pointed out.

"Give it up, Chuck," she warned.

"Exactly. I will be giving up my signature—my very iconic and unattainable signature, may I add—and what will be getting in return?"

"How about this?" She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

The chemistry, the connection was instantaneous.

His mouth was ready for her. Every part of him was ready for her. He pulled her even closer, hands sliding over her curves before settling on her outer thighs.

She moaned into his mouth and he tried to drink it in, drink her in….

And then she was gone!

The closet door slammed behind her, followed in short by the suite door.

Just when he was beginning to wonder if had been just another dream, he looked up and noted that the hook where his scarf had rested was now empty.

Chuck looked around in confusion. Blair was gone, and so was his scarf.

"She stole my signature scarf?!"

* * *

Chuck didn't catch so much as a glimpse of Blair during the school day, but he figured Gossip Girl would alert him if the sleepover set decided to go out for the evening. And he wasn't wrong.

Visconti was crowded and the music was blaring. He spotted Blair at a table with all her girls around her. Only Blair could be wearing twice as much clothing and still be ten times hotter than any other girl in the club. And was that Little Jenny Humphrey in the yellow cocktail dress?

Jenny was saying something to her (he couldn't make out what) and Blair smiled and got up from the table, making her way over to a group of much older Wall Street types hanging out in a corner. He was curious when Blair tapped one of the guys on the back.

The guy turned around and Blair launched herself into his arms, pulling him in with a hand on each side of his face, and kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

Blair's friends sat goggle-eyed and giggling.

The Wall Street group began to applaud.

And Chuck Bass had a total meltdown. Who was this loser and why was Blair— _his_ Blair—kissing him like that? The guy's arms wrapped around Blair's waist. Why was he pawing at her like that?

In a dizzying second, a demon rose up inside Chuck and roared, "MINE!" His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists. The adrenaline in his system began to chant "Fight, Fight, Fight!"; there was no flight option.

But before he could get over there, the kiss ended as soon as it had begun and Blair was on her way back to her table—after discreetly wiping her mouth, of course.

Chuck looked down at his still closed fists. What the hell was happening to him? It was bad enough the other day with his own best friend. It was much worse today. He did not get jealous. He was Chuck Bass, after all; others were jealous of him. What had she done to him?

Oh, God, he needed a drink. He proceeded to the bar.

He had downed half a scotch and was considering his next course of action when a blur of blonde by the door caught his eye. Some hysterical twentysomething ran into Serena and Brooklyn and then began frantically searching the crowd. She approached Mr. Wall Street, who went marching over to where the girls were, Blair dancing with abandon while twirling the scarf. _His_ scarf.

Something was going on and Chuck intended to find out what it was.

Uh-oh, it looked someone had seen the kiss and called Miss Hissy Fit, who was apparently Wall Street's girlfriend. If it had been anyone else, Chuck would've just sat back and enjoyed the show. Wall Street deserved what he got, but Hissy Fit seemed to be gunning for Blair—and she did not appear to be stable.

Chuck was on his feet the second she charged Blair. Somehow, Serena was there, pulling the incensed woman back.

Then things just got more chaotic. Blair was yelling she didn't need Serena to defend her. Wall Street was yelling about his phone. Jenny was explaining that she had made the call to the girlfriend. Hissy was horrified that her Prince Charming had not only made out with someone else, but with someone as young as Jenny.

Wall Street tried to defend himself. "I made out with her!" He pointed directly at Blair.

That was Chuck's cue to step in. "What seems to be the trouble here?"

"This is none of your business. Just go back to the bar," Wall Street ordered.

"Oh, I very much think it is my business. You see, I'm her boyfriend. Is this man bothering you, sweetheart?" He slipped an arm around Blair's waist.

"Bothering _her_?" Miss Hissy Fit shrieked. "She had her tongue stuck down my boyfriend's throat!"

"Eww, no!" Blair shook her head. "It was just a kiss. It was a _dare_." She turned to Chuck. "You aren't mad, are you, honey?" She appeared to be concerned about her faux boyfriend's reaction.

"As long as we know the truth," Chuck replied smoothly.

"And what is that exactly?" Miss Hissy Fit demanded.

"This," Chuck replied, sweeping Blair into his arms. The first kiss was a light touch of lips, but it deepened swiftly, with lips exploring and tongues dueling. There was definitely tongue. It was inarguable.

The crowd around them was silently staring. Other bar patrons turned to look as well. They were just so beautiful together, the heat between them undeniable.

No one could say how long the kiss went on, but it ended with Chuck dipping Blair with a grand flourish. She seemed to hang in the air, suspended in his arms, their lips just a hair's breadth apart, eyes wide in wonder. Her hand came up then, and slowly caressed his jaw. It seemed intimate, so intimate that the onlookers felt like they should look away, but they could not. Even when he slowly raised her to standing, all eyes were still on them while their eyes remained on each other.

"This is ridiculous. I'm leaving," Hissy huffed. "And you," she turned to Blair, "you go back to your babysitting," she gestured to Jenny, and then to Chuck, "and keep your lips and tongue on your own man!" She grabbed Wall Street's arm and dragged him after her.

Their exit, coinciding with the bouncer making his way toward them, signaled the end of the night out at the club.

As they walked outside, Chuck pulled her back into the shadows, flush against him just as they had been that morning in his closet. "I think this is my stop," he murmured against her ear. "That is, unless you're willing to extend a sleepover invitation for me?"

She scoffed and tried to steady her breathing.

"No? I'll just be taking this then," he pulled the fringes on one end of the scarf and it slid from around her neck, the silky material caressing her skin in its wake. "I always come after what's mine," he reminded her.

She was still shivering when he placed a light kiss on her cheek and whispered, "Goodnight, Blair," in her ear.

* * *

The group had separated into two factions on the sidewalk: the ladies ready to return to the soiree and those preparing to return Eric to the Ostroff Center. Serena disengaged herself from her group and came over to Blair.

"Blair, could I talk to you for a moment?"

"Look, I know I said I wasn't a stop along the way, but that was some stop, wasn't it?" Blair tried to inject some levity.

"Yeah," Serena agreed, "Especially that kiss." She looked pointedly at Blair. "Blair, what is going on between you and Chuck?"

"What do you mean? It was just a dare." Blair tried to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, I think it was a little more than that. I'm not blind, Blair. I saw it. EVERYONE saw it."

"Are you worried about what Gossip Girl will say? Nate's off with his family. If he does see it, I'll just explain it was a game."

"It's not just a game for your party. Lately, Chuck is always around you. You said he saw me go into the Ostroff Center. Then he turned up at the photoshoot…."

"We're friends, Serena. Friends support each other."

"Friends don't kiss like that."

Blair's cheeks flushed and she looked flustered. Then she struck back. "Only on bars at weddings when they're your best friend's date, right, S?"

"How many times do I have to apologize for that, Blair? It's in the past. What do you want me to do, build a time machine and go back and undo it?" She sighed, "Is this some revenge thing with Chuck?"

"Again, there is no _thing_ with Chuck. Don't talk crazy." She rolled her eyes.

Serena was still looking at her sharply. "There is definitely something there and if you can't see or admit that, you're the crazy one."

"If you don't mind, I have a soiree to get back to. Always a pleasure, S."

Blair's heels clicked on the sidewalk as she walked away. With each step, she kept repeating in her mind, "Chuck is my friend. Chuck is my friend."

" _Friends don't kiss each other like that,"_ Serena's voice argued in her head.

" _Define kiss."_ She could feel his voice in her ear still.

Oh, God, what was happening to her?

* * *

Chuck knew who it was the second he heard the tapping on his door. He wasn't sure why she wasn't using his suite key; she had when she'd snuck in that morning. Maybe she thought he wouldn't notice if he were half asleep.

"Ah, a visit from my 'girlfriend.' Scarf shopping again?" He raised an eyebrow as he stepped aside to allow her to enter the room.

Blair shook her head. "I won the Scavenger Hunt, by the way. I knew nobody could come up something more iconic and unattainable that that." She sounded more than a little smug, like a cat that had fallen into the cream.

"You're welcome. And speaking of sleepover games, aren't you supposed to be at your little soiree, tucked under the covers and fast asleep?" He looked at the late hour on the clock.

"The girls are all sleeping. They won't miss me for a little while."

"Then can I take your coat?" he gestured at the long trench she was wearing as he walked toward the sofa.

"No, thanks. I can't stay." She sat down on the sofa, actions belying her words. "I just came to thank you."

He sat down at the other end of the sofa, not too close but not too far from her. "For?"

"For helping me out with that guy's crazy girlfriend tonight. Like a friend would do."

"When I say it was my pleasure, you know I'm not lying. I might say you owe me…."

"But that's not accurate, is it? You got a kiss. Two kisses even," she giggled.

Something about that giggle sounded a little tipsy and her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "Blair, how many cocktails have you had tonight?"

She giggled again. "I don't know. One. Two. Maybe five? They were gin martinis, as they should be."

He tried to hide his smile. They was something sweetly carefree about Blair when she let a little loose. "I think they're impairing your mathematical abilities."

"They are not!" Blair was instantly defensive. "I can count just fine. You got two kisses. Two!" She stuck two fingers in the air to emphasize her point.

"You say that as if two kisses with you could ever be enough," he cupped her chin.

"See, you make everything all sexy. That's why Serena thinks there's something going on between us."

"She does?" He managed to sound only mildly curious as he waited for her answer.

"Yes, can you believe that? I kept telling her we're friends."

He stroked her jawline then. "She didn't believe you?"

"No!" Blair was outraged by the attack on her veracity. "She says friends don't kiss like we do."

"They don't?" He'd moved closer to her still. "How do they kiss then? Like this?" He kissed her cheek again. "Or this?" His lips trailed down her neck.

Her heart sped up and she pulled his face back to hers. "We are friends, aren't we?"

"Of course." There was no hesitation.

"Then what is this thing?" She gestured between then.

"It's hard to put into words. A connection? A spark?"

"A spark," she seemed to be contemplating that. "Why don't I feel it with anyone else…even Nate?"

"You didn't feel it with Wall Street tonight?" He recoiled when she slapped him hard on the arm.

Blair wriggled away and got up to leave, but he pulled her back and she collapsed onto his lap, knocking the wind out of the both of them.

Their faces were so close, their lips almost touching. They were almost breathing the same air.

She'd come to thank him tonight, to be his friend.

She was such a liar. She'd come for the magic that happened every time their lips touched. Like an addict who was chasing that ever-elusive high, she just needed one more hit….

Except it wasn't elusive; it was right there every time and only getting stronger.

The spark ignited and turned into a flame.

The heat was pulling them in.

His fingers were playing with the buttons on her coat. When they came up for breath, he begged, "Take off the coat, I dare you."

She shook her head. "I've had enough dares for one night."

"C'mon, I won that Scavenger Hunt for you. Don't you think you owe me a dare?" He was nibbling that little spot behind her ear.

She felt very persuaded, but held her ground. "I think you owe me the dare, Bass. And I warn you, I'm creative…and merciless."

"Merciless, huh?"

"Completely," she purred in his ear before turning in his arms to straddle his lap. Then she began to kiss him for all she was worth.

His arms came around her to squeeze her hips, glide over her thighs. The coat kept getting in his way, so Chuck's fingers released the lowest button on Blair's coat.

Then the next…

And the next…

The belt came unknotted in his hands before the last button was released.

He was inside her coat and he could feel the warmth of her thighs at the tops of her stockings and see the sweet little baby doll pajama set she was wearing. For a moment, he could only stare. The silky fabric was midnight black with contrasting white trim.

It was perfect. She was perfect.

"Blair, you're beautiful," his whispered voice was filled with awe.

One of the thin, white spaghetti straps slid off her shoulder and his hand came up to snare it. He paused then, strap still tangled in his fingers, as he looked at her.

She was smiling at him and when she pulled him closer, she whispered in his ear those 3 words, 8 letters he desperately wanted to hear: "I dare you."

He needed no further invitation before tugging on the strap and pulling the top of the camisole down to reveal a swell of porcelain skin with an aureole of dusky pink. He repeated the process on the other side, before exploring the soft weight in his palms and teasing the nipples with his fingertips. Almost immediately, they hardened into tight peaks and the little noises she was making in his ear deepened in intensity.

He had to taste her. It was beyond want or need now. "It's just a kiss," he explained before capturing one perfect bud between his lips, before worshipping it with his tongue, before sucking it deeper into his mouth. The little noises she was making had become a whole symphony now, as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

He had to touch her. There was no denying it now. Still, when one hand came precariously close to the hem of her tanga, he couldn't help but look at her again, asking silent permission.

Just as before, she whispered the dare against his ear.

His hands slid down to her ankles and released the pumps from her feet, then he angled her body around until she was lying on his sofa, legs splayed in welcome as he touched her where no other man had touched her before. She was ready, so ready.

He had never wanted anything or anyone so badly as he wanted her now. To lie with her, bodies joined together and taking pleasure in each other was the ultimate temptation. But there were some things even Chuck Bass did not dare.

He wanted to please her, to pleasure her.

As if she sensed his hesitation, she pulled his face close to hers again. "It would just be another kind of kiss, right?"

He was free, then, to push the tanga aside and explore her with his tongue, to coax a deeper response, to caress her at his leisure until she was screaming and panting and pulling his hair.

Chuck Bass was no stranger to giving pleasure, but it always in pursuit of getting his own. Now, for the very first time, it felt perfect and right that he had done this for Blair; he expected nothing in return.

So it came as quite a shock when she sat up and kissed him deeply…before untying the belt on his robe, slipping past the waistband of his pajama bottoms and enclosing the length of him in her hand as if she were laying her claim. It was just like his dream, though her hands and her lips and her tongue exceeded anything his unconscious imagination could produce.

They lay there afterward, silently listening to each other's heartbeats, until finally Blair began to collect her clothing and get dressed.

He began doing the same. "I'll call Arthur to bring the car around."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Bass? You won't be sleeping over."

"I'll be having sweet dreams anyway," he pulled her close again.

"Shh," she put a finger against his lips. "Soiree rules: what happens during the soiree, stays at the soiree. It's just a shame though, that we have this spark, and that's all it will ever be, all it can ever be. Between Nate and our, um, differing relationship styles…well, I'm glad we're friends, Chuck."

She was dismissing it, dismissing him, like it had never happened.

He didn't say anything, though the truth in every word she'd just spoken was chipping away at him. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it solemnly.

Like she said, it was just a kiss.

 _Define kiss._ His words came back to haunt him.

He never realized how desperately he wanted her until she'd just outlined why he could never have her.

To Be Continued in Chapter 5

* * *

Author's note:

Chuck's line about there being a spark/connection between Blair and himself actually comes straight from the lips of Ed Westwick, who was speaking about his chemistry with Leighton. Hey, I steal from the very best!

Thank you to all who read and reviewed my last chapter, especially since technological troubles made it somewhat difficult to find. It means a great deal to me and I look forward to answering your reviews soon. I have not forgotten you!

Some chapters are easier than others to write and this one was a bit of a challenge. I hope you consider it a worthy addition to the story. As always, I love to hear from you.

Xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

_Last time in the Kissverse: Blair threw her annual soiree/sleepover, kidnapped Chuck's signature scarf, got into trouble at the club and even more trouble later when she thought she could pay a platonic late-night visit to Chuck's suite._

Chapter 5

The Waldorf soiree was culminating in its traditional brunch at Sarabeth's, and even the clink of the mimosa glasses was agony for Blair. The lights seemed too bright, the background sounds too loud and her stomach far too queasy.

She was never going to drink again.

While she'd been honest that she didn't know how many cocktails she'd consumed the previous evening, the answer was now abundantly clear: too many.

It led to the terrible way she was feeling now…and the questionable decisions she'd made last night.

Blair felt nauseous all over again.

She'd been so irritated by Serena's cross-examination about the "thing" between her and Chuck. The thing that she'd vehemently argued was merely friendship.

 _Friends don't kiss like that._

The words had stubbornly replayed in her head, until, after the other girls had fallen asleep, Blair lay awake still turning them over in her mind.

Then an idea struck: she would go over to Chuck's, thank him for his friendship and _not_ kiss him again. That would show Serena.

And it would have too, if Chuck hadn't made it all sexy. This was all his fault.

Well, maybe not entirely.

Maybe she shouldn't have gone to the suite of one of Manhattan's most notorious playboys wearing only a slinky camisole and some baby doll bottoms under her trench coat. But she'd been resolved to leave her coat on and to only stay a few minutes.

Like most resolutions, it hadn't lasted long.

Maybe she should've left when he'd started demonstrating "friendly" kisses on her cheek that had crept down her neck and stolen her breath.

She definitely shouldn't have whispered that dare in his ear when he toyed with the straps on her camisole, but she wanted so desperately to feel his hands, his lips, his tongue on her décolletage and then lower to her breasts…and lower still….

She should've felt ashamed that things had gone so far (though it was just their mouths, just other kinds of kisses, right?), but she didn't. She felt…intrigued. Awakened. And utterly unashamed.

In fact, she was ashamed of just how very unashamed she was.

She forced herself to take some more sips of her mimosa and waited for the buzz of the conversation around her to subside in volume.

She also ignored the vibration from another incoming text on her phone.

No, she vowed, she was never going to do that again, though she was deliberately vague (even to herself) as to what _that_ was.

* * *

When Chuck awoke that morning, his first thought was of Blair.

Blair knocking on his door in the wee hours of the morning.

Blair making adorable little speeches about how friends didn't kiss like they did. Of course not. No one kissed like they did. Before he'd kissed her, Chuck had never been a particular fan of the act of kissing. Sure, it was a step on the way to greater things, but not the magical be-all/end-all that people made it out to be.

Except with Blair. Then it was so, so much more.

Blair primly sitting on his sofa and politely refusing to remove her coat. Then, minutes later, when he was playing with the little straps on her camisole, daring him to remove it and touch and kiss her.

For her, there was nothing he wouldn't dare.

Especially if it let him past that cool exterior and allowed him to see the fire below, the fire reflecting in her eyes as she explored him with her mouth. He'd brushed back her hair, so he could see her face more clearly, and their eyes met, locked…and it was more intimate than anything he'd ever experienced in his life.

Everything in him whispered, "Mine!" as his fingers entwined more tightly in her hair and subconsciously pulled her closer.

The spark between them flared and burned bright.

It was still burning when she reminded him what happened at the soiree stayed at the soiree, when she detailed why they couldn't ever be more than friends, when he'd silently held her hand all the way back to her place.

He'd texted her the next morning.

No reply.

Same thing through the afternoon, early evening and before bed.

He suspected she was trying to make good on her pronouncement that they were just friends. How long did she think she could ignore him, ignore them? Didn't she see they were inevitable?

The rest of the weekend crawled by until Nate returned from his family sailing trip. When the friends met up, Nate was full of stories about his father and grandfather, about his lacrosse team's chances in the upcoming playoffs, his latest score on Halo.

The one thing he never mentioned? The one thing Chuck could not stop thinking about: Blair. It assuaged his guilt that Blair deserved so much better than that—someone that couldn't get her out of his mind…someone like…well, she deserved better.

He should have been delighted when he got to school the following morning, because there was his best friend, hand in hand with the lady in question. She was beaming up at her blond boyfriend and they made a pretty picture, a perfect match of striking contrasts.

As PDAs went, it wasn't overt. It was casual, companionable. It certainly wasn't anything like a kiss…but the sight of Blair's hand tucked in Nate's somehow twisted the spark in Chuck's chest. It burned, stung…and he felt like he'd wandered into some living fairy tale where he didn't have a role. He turned away; he didn't need to see any more.

* * *

On the Upper East Side, there was no such thing as a bad party, but when you added in the masquerade element, it added a certain something and took the whole thing up a notch.

Masks added the unknown, the anonymous—and who doesn't love a juicy secret?

At a masquerade, you could be anything, be anyone…be with anyone.

So it was that Chuck Bass strolled into one of the most lavish masquerades the city had ever seen…and there she was.

A vision of porcelain skin draped in midnight lace, perfect from the tips of the feathers stuck in a tiara of clear stones right down to the red soles of her Louboutin heels.

She was holding a sparkling mask that obscured most of her face, but not those dark eyes that looked like they could see into his soul, nor that perfectly painted pout that was just begging for a kiss.

And she was alone, having just dispatched two costumed minions (probably Kati and Is).

He didn't stop to think about his best friend's whereabouts or about Blair's "What happens at the soiree" speech.

He was at her side in an instant. "Ah, an angel drawn to the dark side." The words were whispered against her ear.

Every part of her responded to his words and she was filled with relief, elation…butterflies? She mentally swung the door shut on her heart and those insidious creatures. "You're hardly a devil redeemed, are you?" She looked over his red suit and its accompanying mask.

"Beautiful and mean? I'm getting chills."

He was still standing far too close for her comfort. "Well, how about getting Nate? He's supposed to getting clues from Kati and Is."

"Clues for…?"

"A little scavenger hunt game we're playing."

"What exactly is he supposed to find?"

"Me," she whispered, but she couldn't meet his eyes. Nate might be her boyfriend, but it somehow felt wrong to tell Chuck about her evening's plans.

"I see," Chuck sighed. "And are you also the prize in this little game?"

That was the trouble; he saw too much. She turned away and said nothing.

"You look ravishing. If I were your man, I wouldn't need clues to find you." And he hadn't, he reminded himself smugly.

"Or to ravish me, I'm sure." She tried to keep her tone light and carefree, but her words evoked images in both their minds. Images that stubbornly refused to go away of how he had seduced her with his mouth and his touch.

She swallowed. "It's getting late and I'm losing heat."

"I must disagree," he caressed a flushing cheek, "I think you get hotter all the time."

She stepped away from him then. "Just go get Nate and point him in the right direction," she huffed.

"I'm not one of your little minions here to wait on you hand and foot," he reminded her.

"They why are you here? Go away, Chuck." She forced every syllable from her lips, even as her mind screamed, 'Please don't go!'

She could tell he was angry, even behind the mask.

He turned his attention to the other side of the room, where a solitary blonde was circulating through the crowd.

The little blonde looked very familiar. "Who is that?"

Blair sniffed. "Probably some wench from Chapin."

"Then I'm off to do some wenching." He turned on his heel and Blair glared after him.

* * *

Chuck would be back, Blair thought. Not that she cared, because, well, she was waiting for her boyfriend.

Her oh so tardy boyfriend, who couldn't seem to find her if she had a neon arrow pointing at her head.

What a waste of a night. She'd taken such pains to look just right and he wasn't even here to notice. Chuck had noticed, a little voice in the back of her mind pointed out. Right before he hurried off in pursuit of that blonde.

Blair clenched her jaw and looked at the clock on the wall. She wasn't staying here a second longer. Maybe she'd go up on the roof and get some fresh air. She headed for the door to the stairwell.

The lighting inside was dim at best, but she could still make out the couple on the landing engaged in a kiss.

Her feet stilled on the steps. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth gaped open. A chill swept over her and settled with an ache in her chest.

Chuck was kissing the blonde.

Chuck was kissing someone…who wasn't her.

Their special moments, their kisses, their spark – it was all a lie. In a split second, she was angry and hurt and overwhelmed. She turned away in disgust and fled.

Nate! She would find Nate, since he clearly wasn't finding her. She would end this scavenger hunt and go home with him right now. They would consummate their relationship and she could forget Chuck Bass once and for all, every single kiss, every single touch. She would erase Chuck completely.

She walked the perimeter of the ballroom floor, looking frantically for her absent date and completely missing the man in the silver mask whispering in the ear of the tall blonde. She made two more circuits of the venue, before acknowledging defeat. She needed to clear her head and think. Longingly, she looked at the stairwell door again.

Surely he'd be gone by now? Dare she risk trying the roof again?

She opened the door and took a peek. The coast appeared to be clear. She ran up the stairs as quickly as her Louboutins and long gown would let her.

Blair swung the door wide and took a deep breath of the city's night air. Her hand was still on the door knob when a shadowy figure seemed to come out of nowhere, entreating her to "Wait, don't -!"

Startled, Blair let go of the knob and the door slammed closed behind her.

Her companion swore under his breath.

"Bass!" Of course. Who else would it be tonight?

"Why did you do that?" he demanded. "The door locks from the inside. Now we're stuck up here."

"Some of us are more stuck than others," she observed wryly. "Where are your clothes?!" Chuck was stripped down to socks, boxers and an undershirt, but his clothes and shoes appeared to be nowhere in sight. "And where's the wench from Chapin?" Contempt was dripping from every syllable she spoke.

Chuck had the grace to look sheepish then. "Funny thing about that, the 'wench from Chapin' was actually little Jenny Humphrey, who managed to get me out of my pants and have me not enjoy it. This was her revenge."

"Well," she mused, "karma can be a bitch, and so, it appears, can little Jenny."

"Spare me the biting wit. What bee is in Queen B's bonnet tonight? Still can't find your honey?"

"I'm having a perfectly lovely evening. These things were meant to take time."

"If I could see your face right now, I bet your eyes wouldn't match your mouth."

Even on the dimly lit roof, she could tell he was scanning her face. "Quit looking at my mouth! This is all your fault anyway!"

"How so?

"If you'd just done me the favor I asked and found Nate, we wouldn't be up here right now."

"Oh, excuse me for not wanting to be part of your minion squad and play matchmaker for you."

"You sound like a jealous boyfriend."

"You wish! If I were your boyfriend, I wouldn't have left you alone."

"That's exactly what you did. You went chasing after some 'hot' girl and forgot all about me."

"I left because you told me to go," he reminded her. "I was already with the hottest girl here."

"But it's more fun to kiss strange blondes in stairwells?" she bit out the words.

"Why are you so angry? Are you—are you jealous?" He moved closer and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"Jealous? Please," she scoffed. "Why would I be jealous? You think I don't know what this thing is between us? It's nothing."

He took her hands and pulled them up, forcing her eyes to follow and meet his. "It's more than that. Don't you see? I've been trying to stay away like you wanted. But we're like magnets: you can push us away, but we keep coming back together."

"Chuck, this has to stop. No more kissing. No more touching."

"Why?" He genuinely wanted to know.

"Because it just leads to more kissing and touching. I have a boyfriend-."

"Who's not here. Who could be, should be…but isn't. I'm here," he pointed out.

"Only because you're locked on the roof with me. C'mon, you're Chuck Bass, and I'm just one girl. You can't expect me to believe that's enough."

"Do you really think that of me? Get us off this roof and I'll take you downstairs right now and kiss you breathless in front of everyone, Nate included."

She sighed. "Please, Chuck, I don't want to fight about this. This whole night has been horrible."

"Maybe it can be salvaged. Dance with me."

"What?!" Her nose had wrinkled up in that adorable way.

"We've got music," he pointed to the locked door, where muted sounds were still coming through. "We've got moonlight," he gestured to the night sky. "What more do we need?"

"A suit might be nice," she wryly observed.

"Stop teasing and dance with me. I'm not going to kiss you or touch you—at least not any more than I have to for the dancing." He took one of her hands in his as his arm encircled her waist.

"Don't you think you've done enough kissing tonight?" Her tone was annoyed, but she settled into his arms anyway.

"Since I haven't kissed you yet, no. No other kiss counts. So don't be jealous. You have no idea what torture it was to see you holding hands with Nathaniel the other day," he whispered the confession in her ear and was rewarding by feeling rather than seeing her lips curve into a smile against his neck.

She squeezed his hand then, as if to remind him that whatever had happened earlier in the week or even earlier in the evening, they were together now and that was all that mattered.

So they just listened to the music and twirled around on the rooftop.

" _And we're not playing games_

 _And we're not playing lovers_

 _We mean a lot more than that._

 _You can't deny it, baby_

 _We drive each other crazy_

 _You can't deny it, baby_

 _No two people ever felt this way_

 _We just got to let it out…_

 _Let it out_

 _Let it out_

 _Let it out_

The words of the song were becoming too apt. They were holding each other, eyes never leaving the other's, almost breathing the same breath. The heat between them was rising, until it was almost a tangible thing hanging in the air between them.

"Blair?"

"Hmm?" Had he spoken or had the night come to life and swept over her?

"Take off your shoes."

"Why?" She was only breathless because his request had taken her by surprise, right?

"Because your mouth is level with mine and right now I want to kiss you so bad I can almost taste it."

 _Oh._ Without a word, she slid off the pumps and settled back into his arms. "Is this better?"

He nodded, but it wasn't really; there was no part of her he didn't want to kiss. Still, he contented himself with holding her in his arms and silently whirling her around the rooftop.

He had no idea how much time passed before she cleared her throat and said, "It's getting late. We need to get out of here and find you some clothes."

"Unless you can jimmy the lock with one of your hairpins…."

"I have other resources," she confided with a grin, before rummaging in her voluminous skirts and pulling out her phone. "I can just call for reinforcements." She began dialing. When her call was answered, she issued some orders and then quickly hung up. "Kati and/or Is should be up shortly."

"Well, that's great, but I can hardly go through the party and leave like this," he gestured down at his lack of street clothes. "You couldn't have told them to bring me some clothes?"

"I'll figure out something." Blair sounded confident. "You can't send a pawn to do the queen's job."

"The queen's job? And what is that?"

"To protect the king…dom. Never fear, I will have some clothes back up here for you before it's time for the unmasking at midnight."

"You make me sound like Cinderella."

She laughed. "You're the one who's missing shoes…and pants…and a jacket," she pointed out.

"Point taken."

There was a rustling at the door. "Now go hide. I'll be back as soon as I can."

That proved to be about twenty minutes, and true to her word, Blair had a black jacket and pants.

"Finally! I'm freezing up here!"

"Come on, get dressed before you turn into a pumpkin. It's almost midnight."

"How did you manage to get these?"

"A lady never reveals her secrets, but I figured someone at this party had to be as lecherous as you." She gave him a smug smile. "Do they fit?"

He scrambled into the pants and slid on the jacket. "The jacket could use some more room in the shoulders and the pants are a little long."

"It's the best I could do under the circumstances."

"I'm not going to quibble over tailoring. No shoes?"

"No, Basserella, I'm afraid not. You'll have to make do with those red socks. I think they make the outfit, to be honest."

"You didn't get these from Humphrey, did you?"

"No, why?"

"Because you know I'm allergic to poly-nylon blends. Cheap fabric makes my skin itch."

"I do have some standards."

They shared a smile.

She took his hand. "Let's go. We have to get downstairs."

They exited through the door she had propped open and then headed downstairs, still hand in hand.

"You know, it's a shame this isn't one of your fairy tales, Waldorf, or I'd reward my lovely rescuer with a kiss."

Her lips curled into a firm line. "You know the rules, Bass. No more kissing."

"No more kissing," he agreed.

"And no more touching."

"No more touching," he echoed.

"Friends?" she paused and extended her gloved hand.

"Always."

Hands clasped and fingers entwined. A sizzle of current seemed to pass between them and they both reeled from the power of it, almost jumping apart.

She didn't believe in real-life enchantments, but what other explanation could there be for why she pushed him against the stairwell wall and asked a final question, "One last kiss?"

He didn't need to be asked twice.

There was an unspoken, mutual agreement that if this were to be their last kiss, they would make it one to remember.

And so lips met and tongues teased. It was an exploration, a celebration…it was everything. They clung to each other, as if they could stop time and freeze this moment, let the magic go on forever.

But all things come to an end.

When they separated, it was with reluctance, almost pain.

Blair felt unsteady on her feet and her hands were still clinging to the lapels on Chuck's 'borrowed' jacket. "I wish…."

She didn't finish the thought, but he was pretty sure it was what he himself was thinking:

I wish things were different.

I wish this was real.

I wish I never had to let you go.

They stood there a little longer. Until the air became clearer and they could both feel the chill. Until the music from the ballroom got louder…

 _She said where'd you wanna go, how much you wanna risk_

 _I'm not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts_

 _Some superhero, some fairytale bliss_

 _Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss_

 _I want something just like this…._

Bells began to chime midnight, announcing that unmasking was imminent.

They ran the rest of the way down the stairs and opened the door to the ballroom.

And there was Nate, untying his mask and clearly looking for Blair.

Suddenly, the magic was gone, their time on the roof now a castle in the air.

Her king turned back into a charming devil in borrowed clothes and stocking feet.

Blair silently let go of Chuck's hand as she realized she hadn't thought of her perfect prince for hours.

 _I want something just like this…_

To Be Continued In Chapter 6

* * *

Author's Note:

This chapter is dedicated to mercury1893, who was hoping for Chuck and Blair to be locked on the roof together.

The songs used were "You Can't Deny It" by Lisa Stansfield and "Something Just Like This" by Coldplay/Chainsmokers. Both are favorites of mine and I thought they fit.

My apologies for this chapter taking so long. It was a combination of real-life factors (summer is busy season for me at work) and writing challenges (how do you get someone in their undies off a locked rooftop? It's not as easy as it sounds).

Thank you to Chrys1130, Shrk22, Almaloney33 and SnowedUnderNJ for talking me through my dark moments in this chapter, especially when I wanted to smuggle Chuck out under Blair's skirts.

Thank you, readers, for being so wonderful. A review would make my day!

Xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

_Last time in the Kissverse: Blair's masquerade scavenger hunt with Nate fizzled, but things were looking up when she accidentally got locked on the rooftop with Chuck and shared one last kiss with him before the evening was over._

Chapter 6

"I miss you." The words hovered just above the column of her neck, as close as they could be without actually touching her skin, yet they managed to permeate her ear, stimulate her senses and increase her heart rate.

Finally! She'd told him nearly a week ago they were friends, friends who didn't kiss and touch each other.

And he'd gone surprisingly quietly.

He hadn't tried to catch her alone.

He hadn't called or texted.

He hadn't so much as waved across the courtyard at lunch.

The one time they'd found themselves sitting together at a school assembly, with Nate on one side of Blair and Chuck on the other, the irony of being caught between her dream future and the demon of her greatest temptation was not lost on her. And when their hands had accidentally grazed, she found her fingers reaching for Chuck's and missing only by a hair. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice. Had she caught his hand, her fingers would've entwined with his and held, hidden by the folds of her full skirt and the dim lighting in the auditorium. It would've been their little secret. But that hadn't happened and her hand was cold, just like it had been ever since she'd let go of his in the ballroom at the masquerade.

On her other side, Nate smiled and took her hand. Since she'd sent him home alone after the masquerade, he'd been the very model of the perfect boyfriend.

Still, she felt unsettled, like something was missing. If she didn't want perfection, just what did she want?

 _I want something just like this._

Oh, this would not do. Not at all. It was just physical attraction. And it must be stopped.

She sighed and closed the book on the "merry war" between Beatrice and Benedick that she'd been studying. Her eyes squeezed shut for the merest of seconds as she steeled herself before turning to face Chuck.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"What is anyone doing here? I'm seeking knowledge."

"Of the carnal variety, no doubt!"

"There are other kinds?" He raised a brow.

"Go away, Chuck. You know the rules: no kissing, no touching."

"I was not aware that I was doing either of those things. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on your part?"

"Why would I wish for _that_?" She did her best to look haughty and unaffected.

He just looked at her as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

God, she wished he would stop looking at her like that!

"Wishes and rules," he sighed, "They're just like the title: Much Ado About Nothing. They're manufactured constructs that get in the way of what we really want."

"And what is that?"

"This." His mouth was so close to hers that she could barely breathe.

"Chuck, the rules-"

"Rules aren't made for people like you and me. We don't follow the rules; we throw them out and make up our own. Tell me you don't want me to kiss-." His last words were lost as her lips met his, obscuring his argument, but making everything suddenly, blindingly clear.

When she took a much needed break to breathe, her fingers were still clutching his lapels as if she would never let him go. She looked into his eyes and she couldn't hide it anymore. 3 words, 8 letters came tumbling out:

"I miss you, Chuck. I miss you so much…."

Miss you…

Miss….

"Miss Blair! Miss Blair!" Dorota was shaking her arm. "You study too late and fall sleep. You go upstairs, go bed now."

So great was the shock of returning to reality after her wonderful dream that Blair couldn't even muster up an argument. She obediently went upstairs, changed into her nightgown, climbed into bed and let her eyes fall shut once more. Maybe, just maybe she could resume her dream….

But sleep was slow to come and she lay awake for a long time…missing him.

* * *

The text came through the following afternoon.

 _I have something to show you. Pick you up before school tomorrow?_

Her heart was pounding and she felt alive for the first time in days. He was done staying away and so was she.

She was up early the next morning to be sure she looked just right. A saucy red satin bow crowned her head and her dark curls were swept up to display her neck. That the crimson color of her lipstick matched the bow in her hair was not a coincidence. She wanted to show him exactly what he'd been missing. Even her accessories were brighter than usual today.

He was cryptically quiet on the drive to the Lower East Side, resisting all her attempts to draw more information out of him with a low-key, "You'll see."

Blair didn't know what she'd been expecting when they entered the fairly nondescript building on Christie Street, but it wasn't this!

Two dancers were on their way out and there was the clink of glasses being put away behind the bar.

"You want your father to invest in a strip joint? How Midtown!"

He was quick to correct her supposition. "Not a strip joint, a burlesque club. A respectable place where people can be transported to another time…feel free to let loose, escape." He moved closer until his lips were almost by her ear. "What happens at Victrola stays at Victrola."

A shivery thrill went through her. He really ought to have a license for that voice. She pretended to inspect more of their surroundings. "Well, it does have franchise potential," she admitted. "Chuck Bass, I do believe your years of underage drinking and womanizing have paid off!"

She laughed, but he frowned. "Maybe I want to be taken seriously. Maybe I want something more."

Blair felt suddenly breathless. He was still talking about the club, wasn't he? "Do you think your father will go for it?"

"It's just the kind of innovative thinking the Bass empire was founded on." He waved a newspaper whose cover article was a profile of his father. "Besides-," he stopped abruptly.

"Besides?" She really wanted to know what he was going to say.

For the merest of seconds, the confident young gentleman in front of her turned into a shy little boy. "You believe in me, don't you?"

Their eyes met and she moved closer to him, putting her hand on his. "Always." She said it like a vow.

She was looking up at him and they were standing close—so close—to each other in the shadowy entry hall.

This was it. He was going to kiss her again.

Her head tilted slightly, her eyelids slowly closed and her lips parted in anticipation. Her heart thundered in her chest and it felt like an entire flock of butterflies had been set loose in her stomach. This was so much better than her dream even.

She waited breathlessly for his lips to meet hers…

Seconds passed. The wait continued.

She felt him remove his hands from hers.

He wasn't going to kiss her. Her eyes flew open in confusion.

Chuck's hands were now on her wrists, almost as if he was holding her at bay. "Blair." The word was a warning.

She didn't know what to say or think; she could only feel.

Shock. Hurt. Humiliation.

Her eyes began to fill.

He bit back a curse and squeezed her wrists tighter. "Be sure." His eyes were burning into hers.

He was asking her to make a choice. It was one of those do-or-die moments.

Her heart was screaming that this was what she wanted, but her head remained cool, reminding her that she'd waited years for Nate and she deserved her fairytale.

She froze.

He looked away and the spell was broken.

"We're going to be so late," she reminded him.

"You go ahead. Arthur can drive you to school. I'm staying here to pitch my plan to Bart."

Fine, if he wanted to pretend that moment hadn't just happened, then so could she. "Don't be nervous, he's going to love it."

"Victory party here then, tomorrow. I'll send a car for you and Nate."

It was a thoughtful offer, very appropriate. She should've been delighted. Instead, she was disappointed.

She let him walk her to the front door of the club (not touching) and then to the limo door (still not touching).

As the car pulled away from the curb, she raised her hand in a friendly little wave.

He was staring after her with a heartbreaking smile.

There was a little ache in her chest that stubbornly refused to go away.

* * *

The following day, Blair was trying to decide what to wear to dinner with Nate's parents when her mother came in with a new dress.

It was done in the style of a Victorian pinafore. Long sleeves, a high neck and a quantity of lace in some indiscernible color (Was it green? Grey? Antique beige?). Its only concession to modern style was the short length of the skirt.

Blair looked skeptical and frankly voiced her doubts but was quickly shut down by the startling news her mother was about to impart. Tonight was more than a celebration of a business deal between the two families; Nate was planning on giving her the van der Bilt diamond!

Blair was stunned. She hadn't known Nate was quite that serious about their relationship yet. It seemed like such a 180 degree turn out of the blue. She hadn't been expecting this development, but the universe was showing that it was clearly Team Fairytale. Perhaps she had been right not to give into the temptation that was Chuck Bass. Maybe fate had already made the decision for her?

She took the dress from her mother's arms. Maybe she could dress it up a little. Accessories were everything, after all.

She was still feeling disturbed (it was just the shock of the news, she told herself) when Jenny stopped by. Normally, schooling one of her minions gave Blair a heady sense of power and subsequent feeling of peace, but not today. Feeling generous, she decided to lessen the blow of the reprimand with a shared secret.

"Nate is giving me his family diamond," she confided. "It's the most incredible ring you've ever seen." She waxed eloquent about how she'd always known Nate was the guy she was going to marry. "Now it seems he feels the same way."

She waited for Jenny's face to break out in a smile, for her voice to rise in a squeal of delight…but she waited in vain. Instead, Jenny shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. A shadow crossed her face and she looked as if she were trying to bite back her words.

Why was she reacting like this? Was she jealous? Did she have some schoolgirl crush on Nate?

When the girl denied these accusations, Blair lost patience. "Then what is it?"

"I'm just surprised," Jenny faltered, "because at the ball, he told me he wasn't over Serena."

"Why would he tell you that?" Blair barked the question.

"I was wearing her mask. He thought I was her." The words kept tumbling out. "He kissed me."

Blair saw red. "That's enough. Jenny, you're dismissed…for good."

Jenny started to protest, but the tone in Blair's words was final and her face was a mask of determination. She turned to go, but not before sparing one last kindly look in Blair's direction.

Lo, how the mighty were fallen when a lady-in-waiting pitied her queen.

Blair was seething. She wished she were surprised by Jenny's story, or even disbelieving, but in her heart she knew it to be true.

She couldn't even manage to feel sad. All she felt was fury and all-consuming rage. She had given up something she wanted, something she needed (or maybe _someone_ ) and for what? What kind of relationship was this?!

The clock struck the hour. It was time.

* * *

Blair had dressed up what she referred to as the Mayflower dress with red lipstick, an elaborate headband, varying lengths of pearls, dark stockings with a seam up the back, and strappy heels.

It should've been the perfect night.

Nate told her she looked beautiful.

Her mother was basking in the successful business deal the Captain had negotiated for her.

The Captain and Anne beamed at the younger couple, praising them and insisting Blair try on the van der Bilt ring.

Blair tried to demur. Any other time, she would've been thrilled and jumped at the chance.

But it felt wrong now.

She slipped the heirloom onto her left hand. The metal felt heavy and cold and the setting with all its antique stones looked gaudy and fake.

As fake as her relationship with Nate.

It was a relief when the party briefly disbanded and Blair could have a few precious moments to herself. She was looking out the window and down at the sidewalk when she saw Nate and his father arguing.

Then the Captain struck Nate and the police arrived. It was all some surreal nightmare.

When she came downstairs and went outside to comfort (or confront?) Nate, she was shocked to learn what was happening with Nate and his family. Why, why hadn't he come to her, talked to her?

He made noises about Blair being busy and distracted, but she could read between the lines: it was easier for him to go to Serena.

It would always be Serena.

"Do you love me?" She knew the answer but couldn't help asking the question.

He hesitated. It should've been the easiest response to give, but the silence stretched just a second or two too long.

"You know what? Go find your father. He needs you; I don't."

She turned on her heel and began to walk back into the building when a limo pulled up at the curb. True to his word, Chuck had sent a ride to his victory party. She had almost forgotten.

In a day of indecision and unexpected surprises, Blair suddenly felt calm and resolute.

"Be sure," Chuck had said. She was never more sure of anything in her life.

In a twist of fate, Team Fairytale was making way for Team Dark Knight.

She got into the limo.

* * *

Chuck was waiting on the sidewalk when the limo arrived at its destination. The door opened and there she was. The lace pinafore should have looked babyish, but the bold lips, the short skirt, the strands of pearls and the sky-high heels made her look right at home at a burlesque club…or in his arms.

But she couldn't be in his arms. There were rules. No kissing, no touching. And…Nate?

"Where's Nate?" he inquired when the limo door was closed behind Blair.

"We just broke up." Her tone invited no questions. "I want to escape. That's what this place is for, right?"

Chuck was thrown. "Escape from what? Your white knight? Your perfect plans? You made your choice abundantly clear."

She said nothing but arched her brow. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

Chuck didn't know what had happened tonight, but what the queen demanded, the queen got. He stepped aside and gestured toward the doors. And then he obediently followed after her.

The club was in full swing and the crowd seemed to be enjoying it to the fullest. Chuck and Blair made their way down to the VIP lounge area in front of the stage.

They had just ensconced themselves in an oversized antique velvet sofa when a barista came by with a bottle of Dom, a bucket of ice and two champagne flutes.

Chuck poured while Blair continued to look around the club.

"I guess I don't have to ask if your father liked the idea." She favored him a fleeting smile.

He gave her a wry smile. "He didn't at first, but someone changed his mind and he's letting me give it a try. It's been a really surprising day."

"No kidding," she sniffed.

"Look, I don't know if you want to talk about what happened with Nate…?"

She moved closer and put her index finger up to his lips. "Shhh, no talking!"

He wondered if this was a new rule, even though she was touching his mouth when she did it and thus violated her own second rule.

As if she suddenly remembered what she was doing, she drew her finger down his face, stroking the divot under his nose, tracing the upper ridge of his lip and then lingering on the fullness of his lower lip. Finally, it grazed the tip of his chin and then her hand fell back into her lap, which was good because it was shaking just a little bit. He really did have the most amazing lips.

She moved over and took a flute of champagne, busying herself with taking a sip while watching the burlesque dancers on the stage. Her head moved in time with the music and she seemed momentarily transfixed by the spectacle. "You know, I've got moves," she blurted.

"Really?" There was curiosity, laughter and something like a dare in his voice. "Then why don't you go up there?"

She backtracked a little. "I'm just saying, I've got moves."

"C'mon, you're ten times hotter than those girls up there."

"I know what you're doing, Bass." Of course she did; she always did.

They took another sip of champagne in silence.

"You want to know how I feel? Free," she said finally, "I feel free."

"Free to show me your moves?" He whispered the words against her ear.

"You don't think I'll go up there? Watch me…and guard my drink."

Before she could second guess herself, she stood to her feet and made her way to the stairs leading to the stage.

She heard the music, the noise of the crowd, the clack of her heels on the wooden stage.

But she saw only Chuck.

When she started to sway and slowly removed her headband and threw it into the crowd…

She had his attention.

When she found the side zipper on her demure dress and slowly lowered it, letting the garment fall in a cascade of lace and chiffon…

Now he was leaning forward, even more transfixed than she had been by the dancers earlier.

When she turned around and displayed that delicious derriere covered by a silky chemise…

He was more than transfixed, he was mesmerized. He was on his feet now and he didn't even realize how that had happened.

"Who's that girl?" he heard a barista ask behind him.

"I have no idea." He knew it was a lie, even as he said it. It was Blair, the Blair that only he ever saw. Wild and free.

She drew an arm across her shoulders and gave him a flirty little wave with her fingers before turning around to face him.

Their eyes connected and held. She was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life.

He raised a glass (her glass?) in her direction and gave her a proud smile before draining the champagne out of the flute.

The stage lights were dazzling. The roar of the crowd was made even louder by the thundering applause and numerous catcalls.

Neither saw or heard any of it. Their eyes remained on each other as she went back to swaying provocatively to the music.

And they knew: this was for his eyes only. The butterflies swarmed in approval.

* * *

Sometime later, they were sitting together in the roomy expanse of the limo.

"You were…," his voice was husky as he fumbled for the right word, " _amazing_ up there."

In the shadowy intimacy of the car, it felt like the night itself had come to life to voice his thoughts.

It was all the invitation she needed. She slid across the leather bench seat slowly, pausing when her lips were mere inches from his.

Her eyes closed and so did his.

And then she kissed him.

As kisses went, it was light but reverent. Sacred.

She was breaking her own rules. First, when she'd touched his face, and now, when she'd kissed him. He drew back slightly. "Blair, what do you want?"

 _You. Us. This._ Her heart and her head were in complete agreement. But she couldn't get her mouth to form the words. She took a breath and then whispered in his ear, "In case you haven't noticed, Bass, I'm trying to seduce you."

He tenderly brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek and smiled. "You don't have to try. I was yours the second I walked into my suite and you kissed me."

Her eyes were shining and her answering smile lit up the rest of her face. "Then let's break all the rules _together_."

When their lips met again, all the passion they'd been holding back exploded. They couldn't stop kissing or touching. They couldn't be close enough.

Somehow Blair was in Chuck's lap, holding his hand, then gripping his lapels before her arm stole around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair.

For his part, Chuck held her ever closer with one arm, while his fingers toyed with the delicate straps of her chemise and slid it down her arm, savoring the silky feel of her skin.

Then they were falling deeper…

Into the rich leather seat…

Into the night…

And into each other…

Falling had never felt so good.

To Be Continued in Chapter 7

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you, readers and reviewers, for visiting the Kissverse with me. I appreciate all the enthusiasm and support (welcome shout-out to eckomoon!) and the good ideas (DirekFrancis, I am learning to speak Tagalog one word at a time. What an awesome language!).

Special thanks to Chrys1130 (especially for that "Be sure" line and Blair's arrival at Victrola) and Shrk22 for all the handholding and support when, after writing so many season 1 first times, I didn't think I had any originality left in me. I wanted to do DK Chair justice as they had a more leisurely buildup to the actual event, so hopefully it feels the same but different.

Talk to me, readers. I'm curious what you think.

One more thing: Thanks to my reviewers (there were more than one) who commented on Chuck's respect for Blair and her setting of the pace of their relationship…even if the wait is excruciating.

Hope you're all having a wonderful summer.

Xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

_Last time in the Kissverse: Blair broke up with Nate…and then Victrola happened…and a magical limo ride._

Chapter 7

Chuck Bass was aware of it the second his eyes blinked open.

He felt…different.

Lighter.

Alive.

And then he remembered why: Blair.

Blair getting out of the limo…mysteriously alone.

Getting up on the stage and proving beyond doubt she had moves.

The way she had danced…just for him. The lightness and brightness inside of her on display, drawing him in like a moth blinded to all but the flame.

It was a mating dance, made complete by her slide across the seat towards him, the drop of her eyelids and the way her lips were so close to his…close enough to kiss.

" _Let's break all the rules together."_

It was an invitation he couldn't resist.

He wanted to make it perfect for her. When her arms pulled him close…when her thighs parted to bring him even closer…when she gazed up at him with eyes filled with equal parts desire and trust…

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, like nothing in his wildest dreams.

Even after he'd shown her just how very good they could be together, after he'd made her tremble and cry out his name, after he'd followed her into bliss, he still felt a sense of awe…and butterflies.

When he sat up, he'd clasped her hands and pulled her to him. She had curled up in his lap as if she'd always belonged there and kissed him like she would never stop.

She had bewitched him. So much so that when she finally said she needed to go home, he'd done the most unBasslike thing imaginable.

He held her even closer and whispered in her ear, "Then come home with me. Please?"

She froze and tensed in his arms, silent for a moment.

 _Please don't let her say no, please don't let her say no._

Between his father greenlighting Victrola and Blair choosing him, this had been the best day in Chuck's life and he didn't want the dream to end.

The minute seemed to stretch into infinity, so when Blair finally nodded in agreement, Chuck was relieved and grateful.

And the butterflies danced.

* * *

When had things changed?

It was both sudden and gradual; he couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had occurred.

Had it happened at Victrola or in the limo on the ride home? That life-altering moment when there were no longer any barriers between them and they were free, free to be together with no stopping, no holding back?

After, when he'd invited her to come home with him, it had been just the slightest bit awkward, as if neither wanted to break the magic spell of the evening and mar the perfection they had already experienced.

It had been an unnecessary worry. The night had only become more perfect.

When she'd shivered in the limo and he'd helped her slip back into the antique silk chemise and then taken his jacket and wrapped it around her…

When he'd walked her into the Palace still wrapped in his jacket, his hand settling into the small of her back, he could still feel the warmth of her skin through the layers of fabric.

They'd taken his private elevator upstairs. There was another awkward little pause before the doors slowly closed, then they were in each other's arms again, kissing as if they somehow needed the other to survive.

They barely made it into his suite when he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he placed her on the freshly turned down sheets, his jacket slipped off her shoulders. Just when he thought she couldn't get any sexier, she kept finding ways to surprise him.

Truth be told, they were both a little nervous that second time. How could they repeat something so unique, so magical?

It couldn't possibly be so good a second time.

It wasn't.

It was even better.

After, when they lay together, bodies and fingers still intertwined and skin deliciously on skin, Chuck Bass finally experienced it for the very first time: afterglow.

He felt so very high, in fact, that he almost missed it…

Blair's tummy gave a decidedly unladylike rumble.

She blushed and then confessed, "I'm hungry. I never had dinner."

"Let's see what we can do about that." He reached for the phone. "What does my queen desire?"

"You…," she curled more tightly around him, "and ice cream."

He started to dial room service.

She giggled and slapped his hand away from the phone. "Chuck, I was kidding."

He persisted. "No, I think we could both use a snack, and I hope you were serious about that first desire you expressed?" He placed the order and before long, a uniformed staffer was at the door with a tray bearing vanilla bean gelato, warmed chocolate sauce, and freshly made whipped cream.

"Mm, this is heavenly," Blair leaned back against the headboard and sighed in bliss. A tiny dribble of fudge dripped onto her chin.

He gestured to her mouth and her fingers came up to swipe the rogue topping away. But before she could find the linen napkin to clean up, his hand found hers and drew it to his mouth. Starting with her pinky, his tongue lingered over every finger, his eyes never leaving hers.

By the time he'd gotten to her index finger, the gelato was long forgotten and they'd discovered a better use for the chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

It was a discovery that led her to bemoan some time later, "Ugh, I'm so sticky. I need a shower."

He gestured towards the bath before settling back into the sheets.

He heard the shower tap start running.

He needed some rest…and she probably wanted some privacy….

But what kind of host would he be if he did not make sure Blair had everything she needed?

He stepped into the bath and then looked into the shower.

Even obscured by the glass door, the mist and steam and the rivulets of water running over body, Blair was a goddess. His goddess.

He forgot he was exhausted and that he was trying to give her a little space; he simply needed to kiss her again, to touch her again.

He slipped out of his robe and into the shower. They were both startled the instant his hands touched her skin, but then she sighed and his arms came around her waist, pulling her closer.

He trailed kisses down the damp column of her neck and across her shoulders, until she made a little sound of bliss and turned in his arms. The touch of their lips and then tongues was searing, feeling even hotter than the water cascading down on them and turning into droplets that ran frantically over flesh, echoing the motions of their own caresses.

Somehow they were against the wall with her arms round his shoulders and her thighs round his waist, lost in their own world.

And it was perfect.

* * *

Which was why Chuck didn't understand why the other side of the bed was empty and the robe he'd given her to wear was folded in a neat square.

Blair was gone.

His first instinct was panic. (Why had she left and where had she gone?)

Then came the anger. (How could she go after the incredible night they had shared?)

Followed by confusion. (Why was he so upset about this?)

He was Chuck Bass.

Chuck Bass did not invite girls home with him.

Chuck Bass did not shower with them and shampoo their hair.

Chuck Bass did not loan them one of his silk robes and then fall asleep holding their hands.

Chuck should've been congratulating himself on an evening well spent and now to be alone in peace with no distractions. He should just lie back and get some more sleep, like he didn't have a care in the world.

The butterflies, however, refused to comply and it wasn't long before he was reaching for his phone.

The call went straight to voicemail.

He got out of the bed. He would find Blair and fix this.

In record time, he was in the limo and picking up peonies to present to his…what? Chuck Bass didn't do girlfriends, but he wanted, needed Blair Waldorf like he needed air. She was simply his. He didn't care that he didn't have the perfect name for it; they could figure that out later. Right now, he just needed Blair.

He had no luck at her penthouse, where Dorota looked at him strangely before grudgingly informing him that Blair had gone to church.

 _Gone to church?! Blair?!_

She'd felt she needed to leave his side for…spiritual guidance?

Dorota didn't even know which church, though how many could there be on the Upper East Side?

Too many.

Arthur patiently drove by several religious institutions with no sign of Blair. Chuck ruled out the synagogue—Blair was like a little girl at Christmastime—and the Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall—tonight was her birthday party, for goodness' sake!

Finally, there on the sidewalk was a familiar form. She was dressed in black and wearing coordinating oversized sunglasses that would've done Jackie O proud. It was a night and day difference from the evening before, but he'd know those curves anywhere.

The limo slowed and the window was partially rolled down.

"Well, well, this is the last place I expected to find you." He tried to keep his voice neutral, and he considered it a diplomatic victory because he really wanted to demand to know what the hell she was doing.

Behind the sunglasses, her eyes squeezed shut for the merest second, as if she were steeling herself against an onslaught. Then she removed the sunglasses and forced a smile. "Good morning, Chuck. It's a beautiful day, isn't it? I was just on my way to confession."

 _Was she even Catholic?_

"Would you consider a prayer of thanksgiving over breakfast?" It was a most charming offer.

Blair glanced at the towering Church of St. Ignatius Loyola and then back at Bass. She was caught between the saints and the sinner. And she was tempted…so tempted. She had to be strong….

"No, thank you. Busy day today. Lots to do before my party tonight. Will I see you there?"

This was how she wanted to play it? Freezing him out like he was just another of their school friends? Like last night hadn't even happened? He was almost angry. He was disappointed. He felt slighted. There wasn't even a word in English for how he was feeling right now. Well, he could freeze right back. "Probably," he pretended to consider the idea, "unless I get a better offer."

"Well, maybe I'll see you later." Her voice sounded brittle, almost hurt, but surely that couldn't be because she was putting her sunglasses on and walking away.

He sat there, frozen, watching her move further and further away from him.

He looked down then, from his signature scarf to the ribbon-tied bouquet of peonies on the seat beside him.

If he didn't do something right now, last night was just going to be a magical memory never to be repeated.

It was time to bid farewell to his tampo and goodbye to his pride.

He swore and got out of car.

He started at a determined walk and suddenly he was doing what he had never done and had sworn he would never do: chasing a girl. How could she get so far so fast in those heels?

Finally, he caught up to her and reached for her arm, turning her around to face him.

"Blair, what are you doing?" he demanded.

"Exactly what I said: going to church and then to get ready for my party—you know, the one you may or may not have time to attend."

He was ready to swear again. He couldn't see her eyes in those glasses and he desperately needed to.

"Talk to me," he said it more gently this time as he reached up and gently pulled the sunglasses off her face. "I woke up this morning and you were gone. Why?"

There were tears shining in her eyes but she was still silent.

"Did I hurt you?" His voice was almost a whisper.

She shook her head emphatically.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm just…a little sore," she confessed.

"I know they say no one enjoys their first time, but I think you were the exception." His hand reached out and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.

"And why would I think that? Maybe it was the little purrs you were making in my ear?" The words spoken so close to the shell of her ear sent a little thrill through her. "I keep replaying them in my head, over and over."

It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

Still, he did not stop. "Maybe it was when you screamed and made those marks with your nails on my back?" His hand ghosted over her fingertips. "I liked that," his confession was a seductive whisper.

"And that was the just the first time…."

He sounded cocky and she rolled her eyes and started to protest, but then her eyes caught his and he was looking at her with an intensity she could not resist…

"It was wonderful. Perfect." She reached for his hands and their fingers intertwined for a moment. "You know that."

"I do, but why did you leave?"

"I was happy…and scared." She almost couldn't look at him. Almost.

"Scared of what?" His eyes on hers were more powerful than truth serum.

"Scared of this," she gestured between them. "Look, I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought if you woke up and I wasn't there, then you wouldn't have to figure out how to get rid of me."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"You're Chuck Bass."

"And you're Blair Waldorf."

"Meaning?" It was her turn to arch a brow.

"The rules don't apply. I don't even know what the rules are here! I just know that ever since you kissed me in my suite, all I can think about is you and it feels like there's something in my stomach…fluttering."

"Butterflies," she confirmed the prognosis.

"So if you want me to go away, I will, but don't ask me to murder the butterflies."

"It does sound like animal cruelty when you put it that way," she admitted.

"Then I'll ask again: Will you have breakfast with me? There's an Alice's Tea Cup not far from here." He was playing all his cards.

"Chuck Bass, are you trying to seduce me with scones?"

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I'm sure we can find something naughty to do with the cream and jam," she purred.

The butterflies stirred again and Chuck decided that Blair was either going to be his salvation or his ticket to perdition.

Either way, he was all in.

He pulled her close and lightly touched his lips to hers.

The butterflies approved.

* * *

As she sank back into the leather cloud that was the back seat of the limo, Blair tried to ignore the feelings rushing through her veins. She was relieved, so relieved that Chuck found her, that he'd wanted to find her, that their magical night wasn't just a butterfly-induced hallucination.

He'd felt it too.

Her right hand was curled around the bouquet of peonies he'd brought and the other was wrapped around his hand.

He kissed the back of her hand reverently…

Then her palm…

And every single fingertip…

When his lips dropped to her wrist, she was terrified he could hear the pulse that was thundering away beneath the delicate skin there.

Panicked, she yanked her hand away and let her fingers weave into the artistically disheveled locks of his hair, pulling his face up to hers and giving him the 'good morning' kiss she'd wanted to since she'd opened her eyes.

She was slightly rough, but he had no complaints. He loved that she was passionate and unapologetic for it. In his eyes, she was perfect.

The kiss deepened and it was suddenly very, very warm in the back of the limo….

Warm…and still.

The limo had stopped.

Chuck and Blair reluctantly drew apart as Arthur opened the door for Chuck to exit. But before he could leave the seat, Blair's arm shot out and grabbed his.

"Chuck, we can't do this!" she hissed.

"Why? You haven't declared war on carbs again, have you?"

"No—besides, for Alice's, I'd make an exception—but we can't be seen together yet," she sighed.

"We've dined together plenty of times in our lives," he started to protest.

"Yes, but this is breakfast…and we're alone…and no one knows Nate and I have broken up yet."

It was his turn to sigh. "So…no breakfast?"

"I'm thinking maybe we could get it to go and eat in here," she gestured around the cavernous space of the limo cab.

When he returned a few minutes later, it was with a selection of mixed berry scones (her favorite) and chocolate strawberry (his) along with strong coffee for him and Trafalgar Square vanilla peppermint tea for her.

The conversation and beverages were flowing freely and they were both enjoying their morning repast when it happened…something she had never noticed before…

Chuck split his first scone open and spread jam on it, then cream.

Blair gasped audibly. "What did you just do?"

Chuck took a sip of coffee and waited for her to elaborate.

"You put the jam on before the cream; you're doing it wrong!"

"That's not what you said last night," he reminded her. "In fact –"

She ignored the innuendo. "Bass, you know I remain true to the customs of a traditional Devon cream tea, which clearly state that the cream goes on first."

"Why?"

"Because the cream forms a foundation for the jam and shows it off, like a beautiful stained glass window," she gestured to her own properly prepared scone. "In addition to being aesthetically pleasing, if you put the cream on first it won't cover the flavor of the jam."

"You're a purist then?"

"Naturally."

"Then why did you put raspberry jam on your scone instead of the traditional strawberry?" One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, before he went back to his improperly slathered scone.

Blair glared. "I _always_ have raspberry jam with my berry scones. You know I do. The raspberry is sharper and tarter, the perfect counterpoint to the clotted cream."

"Sharper and tarter?" The smirk extended to both sides of his mouth. "Like your tongue."

"That's not what you said last night." It was her turn to smile. "Have you forgotten?"

"Maybe you should remind me," he suggested, polishing off the last bite of scone.

She grabbed his tie and none too gently pulled his face towards hers.

The minty tea had left her lips warm and tingly, but the sensation of his on hers electrified her whole body.

As for Chuck, he immediately knew that this was what he had really been craving.

When she sighed into his mouth, he breathed her in and was lost.

It was a long time before they came up for air.

"Blair," his breathing was ragged, "if you're trying to distract me so you can win the scone argument, that's cheating."

"If I am," she was having trouble breathing as well, "then it's a crime of passion and no jury will convict me."

Oh, that tongue…he could never get enough.

It was a good morning indeed.

* * *

For her seventeenth birthday party, Blair Waldorf was dressed to the nines. The tight black bodice of her cocktail dress flared out into a full, filmy tulle skirt and was accented by sheer cap sleeves. She wore no jewelry, though there were rhinestone accents on the front of the dress. The ensemble walked the line between displaying skin and maintaining sophistication. Her hair was piled high, showing off a swan-like neck and an expanse of porcelain décolletage.

Blair had never looked better, Serena van der Woodsen thought, though she seemed just a bit nervous. Every time the door opened, her friend's eyes flicked over to it, as if she were expecting a special guest. Which the birthday girl firmly denied—all three times Serena had asked.

"Hi! Hello there! Happy birthday to me!" Blair trilled as the most recent arrivals came through the door. She sounded happy enough and Guitar Hero called. Serena shrugged and headed for the game room.

* * *

Where was he? Blair fumed. She knew Chuck believed in being fashionably late, but this was testing the bounds of good taste.

She'd been so sure he would have been one of the first guests there.

Especially after last night…and this morning…

And the fact that she'd been waiting all day to see him again…and to pick up where they'd left off in the limo after breakfast.

She really should have told him to take her back home then, but they'd been sitting hand in hand when the limo passed the Met and Blair absently commented that it was a shame the museum wasn't open to guests this early.

"Who says it isn't?" Chuck gave her a conspiratorial look.

"Chuck, we can't break into the Met! And you have to reserve tickets for one of the before-hours EmptyMet tours."

"We don't need tickets and we don't need a tour guide; I'm Chuck Bass." His grin was smug.

She looked skeptical.

"My father paid for the last wing that was added to the building and sponsored last year's special exhibit of Asian art, so we pretty much have an all-access pass," he explained. "Let me make a call."

One phone call and just a few minutes later, a museum employee greeted them at the door and then discreetly disappeared, heels echoing on the polished marble floors.

"No tour guide?" Blair raised an eyebrow.

He shook his head. "Where would you like to start first?"

Blair's eyes lit up. "The Egyptian wing! It's always been my favorite."

"Well, the Ancient Egyptians did have an appreciation for beautiful, dark goddesses and lady pharaohs. Lead the way."

They strolled through maze of exhibit halls that held over 26,000 priceless treasures from antiquity, from everyday bits of pottery to massive sculptures of the gods. They paused at special things along the way-the granite Recumbent Lion statue that Blair only narrowly resisted touching; the brilliant blue hippo known as William who was a mascot of Met; the reconstructed statues of female pharaoh Hatshepsut—as well taking the time to appreciate the smaller ornaments and pieces that served as a connection to this lost era of the past.

As much as Chuck enjoyed seeing all the treasures, he couldn't take his eyes away from Blair. But there was one item in particular he wanted her to see, and finally he was rewarded when they entered the Sackler Wing, home of the Temple of Dendur.

The sandstone structure had been a gift from the Egyptian government. Despite having seen the temple many times, Blair never failed to be awed by it and a gasp involuntarily escaped her lips. It was like entering another world. A wall of stippled glass windows allowed natural light to show off the temple in all its glory while simulating the lighting of its original Nubian homeland. A reflecting pool made the gate and the temple proper behind it even more impressive.

As they passed through the temple gate, Chuck tilted her chin and stole a kiss. She was enchanted.

They were just exiting the wing when the sounds of museum foot traffic came to their ears. The building was open now and their magical time alone was at an end.

"You've come here alone before," she noted. Her intuition told her it was true.

He nodded.

"But not today."

"Not today," he agreed and they smiled at each other as if sharing a secret.

Then it was time to go home. If it had been hard to leave him early that morning, it felt nigh impossible now. If she didn't go now, she'd never leave. She would be strong about this.

So while she tried to act casual, even making a breezy remark about Chuck possibly coming to her birthday party tonight, she felt that question in her voice and her fingers tightly entwined with his gave too much of her feelings away.

But she couldn't be sorry when he'd looked at her and said that nothing could keep him away, when he'd kissed her hand, when he looked every bit as reluctant to part as she was.

No, she had believed him, even resisted the temptation to call him in the afternoon, but where was he now?

More time passed and the cake had been cut before the door opened and he entered, carrying a bottle of Dom and another bouquet of peonies.

Before she could stop it, her eyes brightened and a smile ghosted across her face. She looked away, only to find Serena standing at the other side of the room with a concerned look on her face.

Blair did her best to look cool and unaffected as she turned on her heel and exited the living room. If Chuck wanted her, he could look for her. As for Serena, this was none of her business. Blair hadn't told her best friend about the breakup with Nate; she hadn't told anyone. She refused to dwell on the reason for that being that she'd been swept away by Chuck all morning.

She found an empty bedroom and checked her hair (her updo was still done up properly) and reapplied her lipstick. She was _not_ primping for him; there were just certain standards to be upheld when one was the birthday girl.

The door behind her clicked and Blair whirled around.

Chuck.

Her heart sped up and butterflies began fluttering in her midsection. Darn things must be contagious.

"And here you are." The butterflies got even crazier with the sound of his voice.

She took a deep breath and got herself under control. "Oh, were you looking for me?"

"I needed to find you alone."

"Because…?"

He was standing right in front of her now. "Because we're not supposed to be seen together in public….and because I've been waiting all day to do this again."

He kissed her then, until she was breathless and completely under his spell.

Her legs felt unsteady and wobbled a bit, so he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap.

"And there's one more reason…." He reached into his suit pocket and drew out a black velvet box. "This." He opened the box, and there, on the white satin lining, was the most beautiful necklace she'd ever seen.

Just as she had at the museum that morning, she gasped in surprise. "It's…it's the Erickson Beamon necklace. How did you know? I didn't even put it on my list because it's too expensive, it's too much."

Chuck unhooked the clasp and placed it around her neck. White gold was the perfect setting for diamond-studded blossom drops and the center heart stone. It was the perfect combination of delicate yet powerful, and it suited her perfectly, right down to the way her porcelain skin seemed to reflect its glow.

He adjusted the necklace, fingers lingering over the drops and especially over the heart, then over her heart. "Something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty." He gestured at their reflections in the mirror, then clasped her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

Tears welled in her eyes. "It's just…I never expected…."

He wasn't sure if she meant the necklace or this thing between them.

"It takes my breath away," she confessed.

" _You_ take my breath away." He kissed her hand, then her cheek. "Happy birthday, Blair."

"You know my birthday isn't really until tomorrow?"

He nodded.

"I was hoping we could ring it in together."

He didn't need to be asked twice. He was kissing her then—lightly at first, then with deepening intensity.

She met him kiss for kiss, until they were lying on the bed entwined in each other and oblivious to the rest of the world.

So oblivious that neither heard the click of the door opening…

Or the sudden intake of breath from the figure in the doorway…

It was a little harder to ignore the expletive uttered in a familiar raised voice.

Chuck and Blair sprang apart immediately, struggling to get to their feet and smooth their clothing.

Blair stared at him in horror. "Nate, what are you doing here?!"

To Be Continued in Chapter 8

* * *

Author's Note:

Hello, darling readers! Thanks for your patience in waiting for this long overdue chapter. Real life has been more than a bit crazy and it slowed my writing down considerably. Special thanks to all my readers and reviewers and to Xan, Rach, Merc and DirekFrancis for checking up on me. Thanks also to Chrys1130, Shrk22 and Almaloney33 for their sounding board services.

Another shoutout to DirekFrancis for introducing me to the words of the Tagalog language. I hope I am doing it justice. Sometimes one language just doesn't quite cover all the feels between two people. Chuck and Blair are certainly too epic for just one language, right? "Tampo" is a word that describes those feels and behaviors when one has been insulted or ignored. It's a cocktail of emotion and reaction designed to show the other party they have messed up. Chuck was quite put out that Blair had disappeared the morning after. His telling her he may not attend her party was part of his tampo, but instead of "making lambing" (using sweet gestures and affection to make up), Blair pulls a tampo of her own…and Chuck ends up chasing her down. Love is hard, my friends. But by the end of the day, everyone is filled with kilig once more…or they were until they were so rudely interrupted by Nate.

What do you think is going to happen next in that situation? Hmm….

Drop me a review and let me know what you think. You know what the very best part of writing is for me? You. I love that my story takes me all around the world and introduces me to such awesome people. Thank you for that.

For those who have asked if I am dropping One Secret I'll Never Tell, the answer is no. I definitely have plans for my Secretverse couple.

Hey, did you guys notice that Bookaholica updated? I am so looking forward to reading her new chapter.

Until next time,

Xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

_Last time in the Kissverse: Following their night in the limo, Chuck and Blair shared a magical morning and finally reunited at her birthday party that evening, but they were interrupted by an unexpected guest..._

Chapter 8

"Nate, what are you doing here?!" Blair voiced the question both she and Chuck were pondering.

"It's your birthday, Blair. Where else would I be?"

"Entangled in some family drama? Scoring some weed? Chasing Serena?" Chuck knew he should keep his mouth shut, but the words flew out anyway.

Nate shot him an angry look and Blair's hand clamped down on his wrist in warning.

He let Blair take the floor.

"Nate, I wasn't expecting you. We broke up last night, remember?" She was gentle but firm.

"We had a fight. And that was only twenty-four hours ago. I thought we could patch things up. I thought you'd be happy to see me…," he trailed off. "I never thought I'd find you in a bedroom with my best friend!" His voice rose again as the door behind him opened wider and Serena slipped in.

"What's going on?" Serena sounded tense and breathless.

"And the full cast takes the stage," Chuck rolled his eyes.

"I was trying to find Blair, so we could make up…and I find her here…making out…with Chuck." Nate's hands curled into fists.

Serena automatically put a hand on his arm to calm him. She wanted to tell Nate he'd misunderstood and that couldn't have been what was happening, but she remembered that night at the club and how Blair kept gazing at the door tonight until Chuck arrived…

Of course that was what happened.

Serena looked over at the pair, who were standing close together and almost seemed to be propping each other up. Chuck's right hand and Blair's left were tucked out of sight in the folds of her full skirt. Serena gasped. _Oh my God, they were holding hands! What was happening here?!_

Nate looked from Serena to Chuck and Blair. "Would someone please tell me what is going on here?"

A look passed between the dark-haired duo.

This was it.

They hadn't really been ready to put a name to this thing between them yet.

Already, it was under scrutiny.

Already…it was over.

Chuck would never choose her, Blair thought. He didn't do girlfriends, and why would he? He had his pick of five boroughs of willing and eager females, not to mention the entire world outside the city. Maybe the last twenty-four hours had been everything to her, but they couldn't have been more than a fling to him. Besides, even if by some miracle he wanted to give up his playboy ways, Chuck wouldn't want to lose the best (some might say only) friend he'd had since early childhood.

Still, she couldn't seem to let go of his hand.

Blair would never choose him, Chuck was sure. She'd dreamed of a fairytale life with Nate practically her whole life. Nate was athletic, well connected, and had his future planned out for him. The only thing standing in the way of Blair's future with Nate was…well…Nate himself. Only that didn't seem to be the case anymore, based on how upset his friend was about finding them here. He should step aside for her. What would he do with a girlfriend anyway? He was Chuck Bass.

But he couldn't seem to let go of her hand.

Nate was still waiting for an answer. "No, no, no, no. You have got to be kidding me! Blair, what were you thinking? This has to be a mistake. Is this some kind of revenge thing? Because I never took you for one of Chuck's -."

Chuck saw red then. How dare Nate talk about Blair that way! He didn't stop to think about consequences. He didn't stop to consider that he'd always been a lover and not a fighter. He just reacted…and suddenly Nate was falling down to the floor and pain was radiating through Chuck's left hand and halfway up his arm.

Serena screamed.

Blair gaped with dawning horror, looking first to Nate's prone form and then to Chuck flexing his sore hand. Like a kaleidoscope, her face was a canvas of shifting emotions: shock morphed into a flash of anger and then changed into a steady smolder.

Nate just sat on the floor looking up at Chuck and Blair's linked hands in confusion.

"What the hell, man?" Nate's hand came up to his face.

Blair moved between the two boys. "You're right, Nate," she agreed. "It was a mistake."

It felt like something was tearing in Chuck's chest. He wasn't ready to let her go yet. He'd been prepared to fight for her…literally…but it was over. One by one, he stealthily disengaged his fingers from hers and let go of her hand.

"You see, when Chuck came back to his suite after the brunch, I thought he was you…and I kissed him."

Nate and Serena stared.

"For a while, I thought that was a mistake. And I tried to fight it, to run from it…but I don't want to anymore." She took Chuck's hand again.

"What were you thinking, Chuck? That she'd kissed you and you could just screw her for sport?"

If Nate hadn't already been laid out on the floor, Chuck would be tempted to hit him again. His jaw clenched and his fingers tightened around Blair's.

"It wasn't 'for sport'." He ground the words out.

"Did you even think about our friendship at all?" Who knew Nate could play the wronged ingénue so well?

"Of course I did. It's the reason I tried to let her go. But I couldn't. You want to know what I was thinking about? What you two," he gestured towards Serena, who was still staring while rubbing Nate's arm, "clearly weren't: Blair." He exchanged another look with the lady in question.

The blond pair had the grace to look shamefaced.

"But I-."

"We-."

"Spare me the explanations, please," Blair cut in. "I think I've heard them already. All of this is a moot point anyway. Nate, we broke up last night…."

"And you went running straight to him!"

"That's what you're really upset about, isn't it?" Blair was beginning to understand.

"Blair, we don't want you to get hurt," Serena explained. "You know Chuck; you know he doesn't do relationships. You're going to get hurt."

"Newsflash, Serena: I already have been hurt. And if I get hurt again, that's just a risk I'm going to have to take. It's my choice to make. For the last twenty-four hours, I've been really happy." She sounded almost surprised to hear the words coming from her mouth. "Even if that ends right this second, I still wouldn't take it back."

She turned to look at Chuck, a question in her eyes, and couldn't look away. Something passed between them and then he leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

Nate none too subtly cleared his throat. "This is what you both want then?"

There was no hesitation in their nods.

Suddenly, Serena noticed the glint of light on Blair's décolletage. "Blair, your necklace…?"

Blair smiled. "It was a birthday gift," she answered softly.

"It's beautiful."

Now everyone knew. Chuck and Blair holding hands. Chuck and Blair kissing. Chuck bringing Blair special gifts. It was a brave new world.

"Nate, can't we forget this ever happened and go back to being friends? All of us?" Blair was asking for Chuck as well as herself.

Nate exhaled.

"I would really like us to be friends," Serena implored.

Nate exhaled again. "I suppose so. It's not like I have any more best friends or girlfriends to lose."

Chuck let go of Blair's hand to help Nate to his feet. "For the record, man, I am sorry. Not for Blair," he hastened to add, "but that it all came out this way. If you want to take a swing at me, go ahead."

Nate appeared to consider the offer, before shaking his head. "No, thanks. It just doesn't feel right. But if you hurt Blair, I won't hesitate to take you up on that offer."

"If I hurt Blair, I'd think she would want to do the honors herself."

Serena couldn't help but smile at how well Chuck seemed to understand her friend. "Nate, we should get some ice for your eye." Since the peace talks had concluded, it was time for them to go.

He nodded as the door opened again and Dan stuck his head inside.

"Serena, I've been looking all over for you." He looked at the foursome of friends and the lingering tension in the air between them. "Did I miss something?"

They all laughed.

Nobody was surprised later when Gossip Girl's blast declared Blair's birthday party one of the hits of the season with everyone taking something away from it: S with Lonely Boy; Nate with an ice pack on his rapidly blackening eye; and Chuck and Blair arm in arm. The blast was accompanied by a shot of the surprise couple in a passionate embrace on the sidewalk outside Blair's apartment building, and a snarky comment about how Queen B had finally hooked herself the elusive Bass.

* * *

Chuck and Blair pulled apart for a much needed breath.

"Would you like to come up?" She sounded breathless and a little wary.

He loved how she could go from sly to shy in mere milliseconds. He never wanted that to change. Just like he never wanted the little smile to fade from her face.

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to go up with her, more than anything. It was all he'd been thinking of throughout the day—well, when he hadn't been out procuring her birthday present.

"Blair," he took a breath, "Nate and Serena were right, you know. I don't know what I'm doing here. I could mess this up, mess us up. I don't want that to happen."

"I don't want that to happen either. But…."

He couldn't look away.

"Can't we just be scared together?"

Part of him wanted to argue that he was Chuck Bass and he was not a coward. Yet he was, undeniably, terrified. Tonight had been a night of surprises, maybe even more so than the previous evening. He'd never expected that Blair would choose him over her perfect fairy tale on a platter. So perhaps greater than the scared part of him was the part that was still marveling that he was here…with her. That part very much wanted to go upstairs with her.

He didn't say a word. He just went back to kissing her.

When she took his hand and led him into the building, into the elevator, into her penthouse, upstairs and into her room…

He would've followed her anywhere.

When her lipstick was all kissed away and he'd pulled all the pins from her hair and their clothing lay in a trail across the floor, she reached up to unclasp her necklace.

His hands came up to still hers. "No, leave it on," he whispered against her neck.

She was all too happy to comply and let her fingers go back to tangling in his hair.

"Happy Birthday, Blair." The words were whispered against her lips.

"It is," she agreed, and they spent the rest of the night making that wish come true.

* * *

Chuck Bass woke up slowly, as was his custom. Usually, the well-paced return to consciousness was a gesture of kindness, as the world he was waking up to was lonely, harsh and too bright.

This morning, however, it was bliss. He was floating in an ocean of pillows and a wave of silk duvet. Warm, soft curves snuggled closer in his arms. Dark strands of silk brushed against his jaw. His nostrils were filled with Chanel No.5, strawberry shampoo and something completely feminine.

Blair.

In a rush, the memories washed over him. Starting with going to her birthday party yesterday evening to coming home with her last night. Somewhere in between, they'd faced up to Nate and Serena, and Blair had seemed to choose him—as incredible as that still seemed.

Chuck let his eyes open and take in the sight of her—fast asleep with the necklace (the necklace he'd given her) still resting on her collarbones. Slowly, taking care so as to not wake her, he placed a reverent kiss on her bare shoulder.

Despite his best efforts, she stirred and looked over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up and her lips parting in a smile.

"Good morning." It was almost a whisper.

"It is now." He pulled her closer into his arms and his lips found hers.

And then there was nothing to keep them apart, nothing…

There was a rapping on the door.

"Miss Blair!"

They sprang apart as their eyes flew open in shock.

 _Oh, God, not again!_

* * *

The knocking on the door sounded again.

"Miss Blair, your birthday breakfast ready."

"Just a minute." Blair gave one last panicked look at Chuck, before she jumped out of the bed and began searching for her robe. She glanced back at Chuck, still sitting up in the bed with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. "For God's sake, get your clothes and go hide in my closet," she hissed.

He didn't need to be told twice.

A minute passed before Blair felt it was safe. "Come in, Dorota."

The maid entered carrying an enormous platter of food, which she set down on the storage chest at the end of the bed.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Blair." She removed the lids off the dishes, one by one.

Polish potato pancakes with butter and a little jug of syrup.

A selection of fresh fruit.

Blair's favorite macarons.

And then Blair noticed: There was coffee…and tea…with two cups. Dorota knew she had an overnight guest.

There was a question in her eyes as they met Dorota's.

"Miss Blair, you not been happy for long time. Lately, you different. I think Mr. Chuck make you smile and mean it."

Blair nodded slightly.

"Mrs. Eleanor be back soon from atelier for lunch with you. When you finish birthday breakfast, Mr. Chuck should take back stairs." Dorota understood they were still something of a secret.

"Thank you, Dorota." Blair was grateful for more than the food.

* * *

Chuck and Blair barely knew a moment's peace following Gossip Girl's blast outing them as a couple.

As individuals, they were powerful personalities with charisma that captured the interest of their classmates and contemporaries.

Together, they were the object of obsession.

All eyes were on them; all ears were listening.

It did not help that Gossip Girl was taking bets on how long the new relationship would last and posting updates and pictures as quickly as they came in to the site.

It was like open season had been declared on Chuck and Blair and their only respite was behind the tinted windows of the limo or the locked door of Chuck's suite.

But today was different…

It was the first day of dance practice for Cotillion. This afternoon, they would be in a room full of people with linked hands, moving in time with the music and each other.

Nothing to see here.

At first it was wonderful. Unlike many of their fellow students, Chuck and Blair had no trouble learning intricate steps or moving in sync, so when they were dancing together they could simply be together and share whispered conversation…

Until it was time to rotate partners.

Even then, their eyes followed each other on the floor, counting down the time until they were able to be partners once more.

Blair's partners seemed to be very attentive and Chuck thought nothing of that. It was, after all, Blair—who could resist? But then she ended up in Prince Theodore's arms.

The prince was clearly setting out to please—not surprising, since his family had a title, some drafty old castle in Belgium, and not much else. Charm was the family's stock in trade and they had managed to get through most of the previous century by cashing in on it.

Blair was smiling at something the prince had just said but then her smile seemed to fade and she looked distinctly uncomfortable. Chuck's smile faded at the same time. _What was going on?_ And then he saw: one of the prince's hands was slowly sliding up her side and the other had slid from her waist down to the top of that luscious derriere.

Prince Not-So-Charming was manhandling her!

Chuck's eyes narrowed.

Blair tried to fidget her way to a more comfortable distance from the prince, but, if anything, it just made him pull her closer and let his hands venture higher and lower.

Chuck's jaw clenched. He was not letting this go on a second longer.

Luckily, there was a break in the music. "Excuse me." Without thinking, Chuck let go his partner's hand and moved across the floor towards Blair.

He tapped the prince's shoulder. "Your Highness," he hissed in a tone conveying anything but respect.

"Go away, Bass. This is Cotillion practice; there's no cutting in."

"Take your hands off her," he growled, grabbing the Prince's arms.

The prince shook off Chuck's grip. "Take it easy. I was just trying to see what all the fuss was about."

Chuck and Blair looked at him in confusion.

"You know, what's so special about the Ice Queen that it draws the attention of a connoisseur of women such as yourself?"

It was obvious from the prince's tone that he meant the words to be a compliment to smooth things over. Neither Chuck nor Blair saw it that way. Chuck's fingers curled into a fist.

Blair took advantage of her newfound freedom to come stand by Chuck and put her hand on his arm. "Chuck, no," she cautioned, as she reached up for his shoulders and started to dance with him again, leaving Prince Theodore to go back to Chuck's former partner.

"You know, you can't do this every time someone behaves this way," Blair reminded him.

"Every time? There have been others?"

"A few," she admitted, "Some comments, some catcalls."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought it would stop…and because I didn't want you to think that we are—that I am—a mistake."

"It would take more than a few handsy guys and overfriendly cocktail waitresses to make me think that."

"Overfriendly cocktail waitresses?" She raised a brow.

"Don't be jealous. I wasn't interested."

"But you're Chuck Bass," she argued.

"And you're Blair Waldorf. I don't care if the rest of the world doesn't understand what that means; we know what it means."

He pulled her closer and her eyelids squeezed tight in bliss. Suddenly, she didn't want to be around a ballroom full of other people. "Chuck, let's go home…and let's take the long way."

They walked off the floor arm in arm, not caring who stared after them.

* * *

A week later, they came off the elevator and into the Waldorf penthouse, still filled with adrenaline from their hard-fought tennis matches of the afternoon.

Relaxed and happy, they were playfully bantering about the close score and how Blair, as the winner, was clearly the more athletic of the pair.

"I'll show you athletic!" His arms came around her waist.

"You'll have to catch me first," she taunted, wriggling away and starting up the stairs. "See you in the shower!"

He gave chase.

They were about a third of the way up the stairs when they heard the voice.

"Blair, Charles, could you come in here, please?"

Eleanor. Her voice sounded suspiciously calm and even.

They exchanged a look and then turned around, descended the stairs and walked into the living room, trying to appear at ease.

A male figure got up off the sofa and smiled in their direction. His smile was that of a predator and there was a cold look in his blue eyes.

"Charles, Blair, we have something to discuss with you," Bart Bass announced.

To Be Continued in Chapter 9

* * *

Author's Note:

Uh-oh, will this surprise meeting with the parents be a good thing? What can they want with our favorite couple? Got a theory?

Special thanks to all my readers and reviewers (including those lovely guest reviewers that I don't get to thank personally, plus a happy belated birthday to mercury1893!).

I love sharing this story with you all. Have a wonderful day!

Xoxo


	9. Chapter 9

_Last time in the Kissverse: The NJBC had a confrontation over the new Chair relationship. Dorota later proved herself to be an unexpected ally. Prince Theodore got a little inappropriate at Cotillion practice. Chuck and Blair received a surprise summons from Bart and Eleanor._

Chapter 9

They were about a third of the way up the stairs when they heard the voice.

"Blair, Charles, could you come in here, please?"

Eleanor. Her voice sounded suspiciously calm and even.

They exchanged a look and then turned around, descended the stairs and walked into the living room, trying to appear at ease.

A male figure got up off the sofa and smiled in their direction. His smile was that of a predator and there was a cold look in his blue eyes.

"Charles, Blair, we have something to discuss with you," Bart Bass announced. "Please, sit down," he gestured to them as he returned to his own seat.

There was something wrong with Chuck's father looking so very at home in the Waldorf penthouse.

Blair's eyes darted to Chuck's, a question in her eyes. Maybe he knew what this thing was about?

He looked just as clueless as she was.

Panic shot through Blair. This could not be good. She must calm herself.

She made a show of settling herself onto the backless settee (there was nowhere else available) beside Chuck, careful not to let any part of her bare legs touch any part of his.

She must not touch him. If she did, she would want to hold his hand as she had when Nate confronted them. It was unfortunate, because she felt stronger when they were touching.

She must not look at him again either, not with her mother and his father watching their every move. That was unfortunate too, because they could understand each other perfectly without uttering a single word.

So she sat up straight, posture perfect and knees demurely pressed together…waiting for the ball drop.

Then she realized that while she couldn't see or touch Chuck, she could most definitely smell him.

And he smelled amazing. His cologne had long since evaporated on the tennis courts, leaving the naturally musky scent of the man himself behind.

There was something raw and masculine about the aroma. It drew her in, reminding her of the possibilities of what she could be doing with him right now—wrapping her legs around him while he kissed her senseless and she inhaled his scent to her heart's content…or…letting him lather her in the shower as he kissed his way down the column of her neck….or…..

She realized that Bart's mouth was moving, but she hadn't been listening to a word he was saying.

Bad, bad Blair!

"I'm sorry," she broke in, "could you repeat that, please?"

Bart looked disappointed and Eleanor looked disapproving.

Blair renewed her efforts at concentrating.

"As I was saying," Bart gave her an indulgent smile, "it has come to our attention that the two of you have become closer in recent weeks."

Oh, God, no. Not again. She and Chuck weren't going to have to defend their relationship again, were they? She was still torn between being thrilled and terrified at using the words 'Chuck' and 'relationship' in the same sentence.

"Well, it had not yet come to my attention," Eleanor added dryly, "because I was under the impression you were still dating Nate, Blair." The intense scrutiny in her eyes was disconcerting.

"We broke up," Blair offered lamely.

"So I see." Eleanor looked from Blair to Chuck. "It would have been nice had you made me aware of that fact, and about this," she gestured in their direction.

"Mother, I -."

Chuck placed a hand on Blair's arm. "Mrs. Waldorf, I'm afraid that was my fault. Blair and I have always been friends, but when I got the chance to get to know her even better, I didn't hesitate."

Eleanor's mouth dropped open and Bart beamed in a way that could only be described as oddly proud.

Chuck's hand slid down Blair's arm and linked with her own. Blair let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret from you, Mother. It's just very new, that's all."

"And no one here is trying to question you or second-guess your friendship." Bart gave Eleanor a warning look. "Blair is a lovely girl, and, as she said, they've known each other forever. Well, I couldn't be happier."

Blair gave up then, and turned to look at Chuck, who looked every bit as amazed as she did.

Bart didn't disapprove of their being together? He was actually _pleased?!_ Were they in some alternate universe now?

"But that's not why we wanted to talk to you…," Bart tried to steer the conversation back to his original point.

If they didn't want them to stop seeing each other…then what else could it be?

A horrible thought came to Blair: Bart was single and Eleanor was soon to be. They were both powerful businesspeople who moved in the same circles. What if they—oh, God, it was too awful to contemplate!

Surely they wouldn't be so understanding of their children dating if they were dating themselves?!

"What did you want to speak to us about?" Chuck decided to end the suspense.

"To tell you we are going into business together," Eleanor was smiling as she said it.

Blair and Chuck gaped.

"You know I was thinking about taking my company public and the Captain was going to help with that?"

They nodded.

"Obviously, the Captain isn't going to be helping anyone from jail," Eleanor words dripped with distaste. "Bart suggested I delay going public for a while and instead open some boutiques inside his hotels and resorts. I think it will be great exposure for my brand."

"And I think it will be a sound investment for Bass Industries. Fashion is a direction we've never gone before and this partnership will add some diversity to our interests."

"Like Victrola," Chuck remarked.

"Somewhat," Bart's agreement was lukewarm. "Waldorf Designs brings a known company with name recognition and a history of success. That's hardly the same as your little club venture. Besides, do you know how many club and restaurants start-ups go under their first year in Manhattan?"

Without missing a beat, Chuck quoted a figure back to him.

Bart frowned and the atmosphere grew tense.

"But we don't have to worry about that," Blair broke in, "because Chuck's club is already off to a great start. Just last week, the Times featured it in their profile of 'New and Noteworthy Nightspots.' Chuck's been working very hard and people are taking notice." She smiled as she squeezed his hand.

The corners of Bart's mouth turned up. So defensive, she was. Who knew his son could inspire such devotion?

Eleanor frowned. "What club is this?"

Again, Blair was right there. "Victrola. It's a burlesque club. Very retro."

"Have you been to this club, Blair?"

"Of course! Several times."

"Blair's been very supportive," Chuck gave Eleanor a smile.

Chuck and Blair moved a little closer to each other and shared a look. If her mother only knew!

They were interrupted by Dorota bringing a tray with four champagne flutes and an ice bucket filled with a bottle of very some expensive Dom Perignon.

It appeared a celebration was in order.

* * *

It wasn't until he was getting into the limo with his father that Chuck realized he'd left the bag containing his street clothes behind at the Waldorf's. He excused himself and went back up, easily spotting the bag in the foyer at the foot of the stairs.

Before he left, he peeked into the living room, hoping that perhaps Blair was still there and they could say a private goodbye before he departed again.

"Charles?"

Definitely _not_ Blair.

"Mrs. Waldorf," Chuck covered his disappointment with charm and a lazy drawl. "I was just getting my bag."

"I see. It's not good to be careless with your things." There was cold disapproval in her tone.

He tried a little more charm. "I was just distracted by the celebration of the partnership between our families. I'm sure it will be a great success." He followed up with a smile.

"I believe it will, and I'm grateful for the opportunity…but make no mistake, Charles, you are not what I want for my daughter."

Chuck was taken aback. She'd certainly seemed agreeable enough when his father was there.

"Please sit down and I'll explain," she gestured to his former spot on the settee.

He sat, bag still in hand, thinking how he felt exposed without Blair beside him.

"I've tried to raise my daughter to be a powerful woman, a woman of influence—one who could be at home as a political hostess or as the face of my company. I did not raise her to hang out in burlesque clubs with underage playboys with questionable reputations."

"Mrs. Waldorf, I-," he started to respond.

"I do not want Blair to be humiliated or hurt."

He tried again to say something, but she was undeterred.

"Sooner or later—sooner, if I have anything to say about it—this little crush will play itself out."

 _This little crush_?! Chuck's jaw clenched and his hand involuntarily tightened around the handle of his bag. How dare she dismiss the best thing in his life—possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him—as a childhood infatuation?

He stood up and took a breath. "This is _not_ a little crush. And Blair _is_ a powerful woman—more powerful than you realize, because I can see her running a company or even running for public office someday. I'm sorry that my being with Blair took you by surprise, but I won't apologize for it."

He left Eleanor sitting there with her mouth agape. Everything about this new situation had taken her by surprise, maybe Chuck's words about her daughter most of all.

* * *

Chuck had just showered and slipped into his favorite silk paisley robe when the door to his suite opened.

And there she was, wrapped in a cute little jacket, hair curling over her shoulders, and…heaven help him…tight jeans hugging every curve from waist to ankle. Blair seldom wore pants—much less jeans—and that, thought Chuck, was a tragedy. As much as he loved those swishy little skirts, the silky hose and tights…well, something about those jeans showcased that she had a body made for sin. Under that denim were things hidden and forbidden and incredibly sexy.

He couldn't wait to get them off her.

His hands closed around her waist as her fingers grasped the lapels of his robe and pulled him close…

Closer…

Until they were almost breathing the same air.

They clung like that for a moment, until she whispered, "I think we're alone now."

"Finally!" His voice was raspier than ever as all the pent-up passion of earlier in the day was released in kisses, stolen breaths, exploring caresses.

Then he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

It was some time later, while lying curled in each other's arms, Blair spoke the words that broke the spell.

"That was quite the surprise earlier this afternoon."

They were going to talk about it. He'd known they would, of course, but selfishly he wanted to stay in the afterglow just a little longer.

"I had no idea," he confessed.

"Me neither. It does sound like a good idea."

He nodded.

"I guess I'm most surprised to pass Bart's muster," she said, wonderingly.

"Why? You're wonderful." He kissed her forehead.

"I mean, this is Bart we're talking about here. I wasn't aware he liked anyone. Mother-."

"Hates me," Chuck finished.

An odd shadow came over Blair's face.

"You can say it. She certainly had no problem telling me I am 'not what she wants for her daughter' when I went back to get my gym bag." His lips twisted as he said the words.

"It took her by surprise," Blair interjected, "because of Nate."

And there it was: TeamFairytale just reared its shiny, blond head again.

"We were together a long time," she explained.

"And he can offer you things I can't. I don't have an old family name and old family money. My father donates to political campaigns; he doesn't run in them. Maybe she's right; maybe you would be better off with Nate."

She pulled away from him in shock. "Chuck, what are you saying? Do you want to be rid of me?"

"I'm just saying you deserve to be with someone who can make you happy. Maybe Nate took you for granted before, but on your birthday he came back for you." It was killing him to say the words, but he had to be honest with her.

She sat up and began scavenging for her clothes. She pulled them on hurriedly, not even looking at Chuck.

"If you want to break up with me, just do it. Don't use my mother or my history with Nate as an excuse! Here," she fumbled in her jacket pocket, procured his suite key and tossed it on the bed, "you won't have to worry about my barging in again."

"Blair, wait!" Chuck put on his robe and grabbed the key. How had things gone to hell so quickly? He was in a panic.

He grabbed her arm and whirled her around to face him before she could reach the door. "I don't want to break up with you. I just want you to be happy, not disappointed or ashamed of me."

She sighed. "Chuck Bass, you are an idiot." She took one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers. "Did you think I rushed over here because I'm 'disappointed'? My mother had the same conversation with me as she did with you. Do you know what I told her?"

She took his face in both her hands and forced him to look at her. "I want you. Because _you_ make me happy. I'm sorry she doesn't appreciate you yet, but she will. You're somewhat irresistible."

He smiled then. "Only somewhat?"

"Well, maybe a little more than that." She was back in his arms. "I can't rewrite our story to be a perfect fairytale, but I don't want to. I just want you."

He swallowed. "I want you to have this," he pressed the key into her palm.

By giving her the key to his suite, he was essentially making his place _theirs_. It seemed sudden, but also a natural next step for them.

She looked at him again. "Are you sure?"

"I know our path has been complicated…with Nate and our parents…but I want you too." Part of him panicked to hear those words coming out of his mouth. He wasn't used to saying how he felt out loud and part of him still didn't trust that she wouldn't laugh.

Her fingers closed around the key—after all, he had said it was the key to her future happiness-and she gave a little laugh. "Define want."

"Stay for dinner and I will," he challenged back.

She was in his arms, his lips on hers, and suddenly Chuck Bass's world, which had come so very close to imploding, was right once more.

* * *

It was barely lunchtime and already Chuck was regretting accompanying his father on the trip to Chicago.

It was no way to spend Thanksgiving.

Not when he could be with Blair on her favorite holiday.

Still, the invitation had been an unexpected honor. Before Victrola, before Blair, Bart would've never considered asking Chuck to accompany him.

Blair had been disappointed, of course, that he wouldn't be there, but she was so excited at the prospect of seeing her father again that Chuck didn't figure she'd have time to miss him too much. To be sure she missed him just a little, they'd been exchanging a volley of fun and flirty texts all morning, surreptitiously sent between the golf game with Bart and his Chicago business partners, and a luncheon meeting complete with turkey and all the trimmings. When that had led to even more meetings in the afternoon, Chuck begged off and returned to their hotel room for a bit of peace and quiet.

He was half listening for the next text alert when the phone unexpectedly began to ring.

The looked at the display screen. "Blair?"

The only answer was a muffled sob.

"Blair, what's wrong?"

"Thanksgiving is ruined!"

He didn't ask why, merely gave her a moment to compose herself and continue.

"Daddy was supposed to be here and he's not and no one will tell me why. Serena was supposed to be here too, but I—I uninvited her. And I'm so frustrated and there's so much food…," she trailed off.

Chuck knew immediately that all the upset was triggering a bulimia episode for Blair. "Blair, don't let this hurt your recovery. Have you called your doctor?"

"No, I just left and came over here."

"Where are you?"

"Your suite." She paused. "I hope that's okay."

She needed him and he wasn't there. This was not acceptable.

"Look, just stay there, call your doctor, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"But you're in Chicago!"

"Not when I can be with you. I'll be there as soon as I can get the jet." He had no idea what he was going to tell his father, but there was no way he was staying here if Blair needed him in Manhattan.

Luckily, Bart was amenable to his leaving early, even saying he would join him on the trip. He'd muttered something about unexpected evening plans that Chuck considered unusual but hadn't scrutinized too closely.

The flight took slightly less than two hours, but time seemed to crawl by until he was crossing the threshold of his suite, tossing his coat to the side.

"Blair!"

His eyes swept the living room area, but she wasn't there. He rushed into the bedroom, relieved to find a familiar form curled up asleep on the bed, cell phone still in hand.

"Blair!"

Her eyes flew open and her face lit up as he slid in behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," she whispered, turning to snuggle closer in his arms.

"What happened today? You were so excited about the holiday."

"It's my favorite, and Daddy was going to be here and Thanksgiving has always been our thing. When I came downstairs and he wasn't there, Mother told me it's because it was 'too much work' for him to come and that he didn't call because he didn't want to have a 'difficult' conversation with me." The tears were in her voice again.

Something about those statements didn't ring true to Chuck. "But what did he say? Have you talked to him?"

"No. Dorota said I should call, but I didn't want to be a nuisance."

Harold had always been Blair's favorite parent and that was surprising to no one. While neither of Blair's parents were exactly up for Parent of the Year, Chuck found it hard to believe that her father would be so callous about the special holiday time he usually spent with his daughter. Harold might be self-involved, but he didn't seem the type to be deliberately cruel or neglectful. It felt like a piece of the puzzle was missing.

"Blair," he looked into her eyes, "you know you need to call him and find out for yourself. So far you've assumed the worst based only on a secondhand report. The Blair I know would never make decisions with anything less than full intel."

"But what if he really doesn't want to be bothered?" There was a wistful note in her voice.

"Then you'll at least know what's going on."

She couldn't argue with that.

Chuck fumbled with the covers and finally produced her phone. "Here. Call him."

Chuck went to the other room to give Blair her privacy and when he returned a few minutes later, she was fuming.

"Chuck, can you believe it? Mother told Daddy I was angry with him about the divorce and didn't want to see him!"

Again, Chuck was not surprised.

"She had no right. No right!"

"Maybe not, but before you condemn her, at least give her a chance to testify in her own defense. Call her next."

"I will not!" Blair's chin jutted stubbornly. "I don't want to speak to her or look at her."

"Speaking of 'not speaking to,' what happened with Serena being uninvited?"

"Disinvited," Blair corrected. "I invited her and she came over, but she was so horrible that I asked her to leave."

"How so?"

"I don't want to tell you!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"It was horrible, horrible to us both."

His right eyebrow continued to defy gravity.

"I told her you gave me the key to your suite."

"And…?"

"She told me she didn't know you could have a key to something with a revolving door."

Chuck couldn't quite suppress his smirk. "Careful, Waldorf, you're getting some competition for your wit game."

Blair's frown did not change. "She tried to pass it off as a joke, but I just wanted my best friend to be happy for me, today of all days."

Chuck exhaled. "Blair, do you believe in me, in us together?"

"Of course!" There was no hesitation.

"Then it doesn't really matter what anyone else thinks, does it?"

"My mother always said that lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep."

"Well, my lioness, if Serena says anything else, you can tell her I've changed the door and this one opens only for you." He kissed her lips lightly but reverently.

"I felt better once I called you today," she confessed.

"I was glad you called. Did you call your doctor too?"

"Yes, the Ostroff Center paged her at home for me and we had a session over the phone. I'm sorry I was asleep when you got here."

He smirked at her again. "I think we've established that good things happen when I find you in my bed. And this time you even knew it was me."

She gave him a playful slap on the arm and he grabbed her fingers and encased them in his.

"Come on. As delightful as the idea of joining you in bed is, let's get you home so you can get things sorted out with your mother and salvage what's left of your Thanksgiving."

Blair smoothed her hair and her dress.

"What are you wearing?"

"My mother thinks this dress is 'enchanting'," she did a breathy impression of Eleanor. "You don't like it?"

"Let's just say I'm more enchanted by what's underneath the dress."

She smiled at him. "Chuck, there's a pumpkin pie on your coffee table. I stopped after one piece, but it's probably better if it's not here when I come back."

"Of all the ways I envisioned partaking of your pie today...this wasn't quite what I had in mind."

* * *

The guests were gone when they got back to Blair's, leaving only Eleanor to welcome the new arrivals.

"Blair…and Chuck." She sounded disappointed at first, then considered that Chuck was probably the reason Blair had returned. "Can we get you something to eat?" (Everyone knew the royal 'we' meant Dorota.)

Blair shook her head. "You can give me some answers. Why, Mother? Why did you tell Daddy I didn't want to see him?"

Eleanor sighed, too tired and too vulnerable to put up a fight. "With the divorce papers arriving and trying to handle expanding my business, I just wasn't up to facing him and facing a holiday alone."

"Alone?! You had a house full of guests!"

"But only one daughter. And I knew, if she found out her darling daddy wasn't coming, would probably fly to Paris to be with him. I just wanted to spend Thanksgiving with you. Now it's ruined. I'm sorry."

For a moment, Blair was stunned into silence. Her mother actually cared, actually wanted her there. "It's not over yet," Blair gently reminded her. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around Eleanor. "I'm sorry too."

"I think that's my cue to leave," Chuck broke in.

"Chuck, no!" Blair turned back to face him. "You came back for me. I'd feel terrible abandoning you."

"I won't be alone; I have pie, remember?" He gave her a little smile and kissed her forehead. "You take this time with your mom." His voice dropped lower and he whispered in her ear, "You can make it up to me later…perhaps with whipped cream?"

She flushed to the roots of her hair and glanced quickly to be sure her mother hadn't heard.

Eleanor gave Chuck a slight smile. "Thank you, Charles."

Chuck turned to go, before finding something in his pocket and turning back to Eleanor. "Here, I almost forgot. My father said to tell you that one of our lawyers will be contacting you regarding the partnership project this week. He's a most unusual man, but I think you will like him."

Eleanor took the business card from his hand. "Cyrus Rose? Never heard of him."

"Believe me, once you meet him, you'll never forget him. He may have some suggestions for a divorce lawyer as well, if you need one."

"Thank you." Her words were even more sincere the second time around. "It seems I owe you my gratitude."

"Mrs. Waldorf, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Eleanor blinked. Had the young man just winked at her?

His eyes raked longingly over Blair one last time before he departed, secure in the knowledge that Chuck Bass had managed to save Thanksgiving.

To Be Continued in Chapter 10

* * *

Author's Note:

Hello, readers! Wow, the challenges to Blair and Chuck's relationship keep on coming, don't they? But so far, so good.

What did you think of this latest chapter? Talk to me! I love hearing from you.

Until next time,

Xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

_Last time in the Kissverse: Chuck and Blair's relationship got mixed reviews from their parents, who had decided to go into a business partnership. Chuck managed to save Thanksgiving and give Blair the key to his suite._

Chapter 10

"Mr. Bass will see you now."

The young lady left a cloud of mystery and Chanel No.5 in her wake as she sashayed past the confounded barista. She seemed so very familiar….

The sound of her heels striking the wooden floor echoed in the empty bar.

"Mr. Bass?"

The gentleman in question looked up from the receipts he was going over and his dark eyes appreciatively slid over her curvaceous form. He was younger than one would have expected and handsome as sin.

"Bl -!"

Before he could continue, she interrupted. "I'm here from Waldorf Designs. Mrs. Waldorf sent me. I have a sample of the burlesque costumes you commissioned."

He stepped into the role without missing a beat. "What shall I call you, ma chere?" As he said the words, he strolled slowly over to her.

"Whatever you would like, sir." Her obsidian eyes had a naughty gleam.

"We will see," his eyes were doing their share of flirting as well. "But, first...," he reached for the cardboard portmanteaux in her hand, "let's see the merchandise."

She slapped his hand away. "It's not in there." Her eyes darted down to her long black overcoat.

His fingers immediately went to the hem of her coat.

"Ah, ah, ah," she slipped out of his grasp, "A costume is so much more than just a piece of fabric. Accessories are so important. Look at my shoes," she gestured to the strappy black patent sandals on her feet. "Tell me, do you like them?"

"They are charming."

"And my stockings…they're so silky and textured," she purred, holding out a leg encased in finely knit lace.

His hand stretched out to trace a shapely calf. "They're…captivating." His hand slid up her thigh. It was suddenly very, very warm in the club.

His hand slid back down and she let out a sigh of disappointment…

Until he popped the bottom button on the cashmere coat…

And then the next…

And the next…

Until he'd unveiled an equally revealing satiny pair of black baby doll panties. "Enchanting!" He finished releasing the rest of the buttons on the coat and allowed it to slip off her shoulders and fall onto the floor.

His fingers returned to her and paused, spanning the indentation of her waist and squeezing before continuing his journey upward to…

A form-fitting red bodice with black lace trim that showcased a tiny waist and pushed her bosom into twin curves that swelled over the tops of the cups of the bustier.

"They're…enticing," he whispered the words directly on her skin. The thrill he felt go through her and cause her breath to hitch echoed right back through him. Slowly, he placed a feather light kiss on each silky soft sliver of skin before letting his lips trace the trail left by the thin, delicate straps and come to rest at the hollow of her collarbones.

He inhaled the cocktail of her perfume and the unique scent of her, so much more intoxicating than anything found at the bar. He hummed in appreciation as she stretched her neck sensuously.

"Mr. Bass?" He could hear the sigh in her voice.

"Hmm…?" He was about to lose the plot.

"Shall I tell Mrs. Waldorf you find the dancing costume satisfactory?" She drawled the last word out.

He pretended to consider the question carefully. "Well, I haven't actually seen it in motion yet, miss."

"Would you like me to dance?" The whispered offer was half shy, half wanton.

"Is that asking too much?"

"It would be my pleasure." She turned to take the stage.

He grasped her hand and whirled her around to face him, their lips mere inches apart.

"I had something a little different in mind…a little more…private. I want you to dance just for me. I crave it, in fact."

She swallowed as she appeared to consider Mr. Bass' proposal…and then she nodded.

He turned and called out to the bartender, asking him to turn up the music and telling him to lock up for the night. All the while his eyes never left hers.

Mr. Bass returned to his seat and leaned back in anticipation. "Show me your moves."

"Again, it would be my pleasure."

"If you do it right, the pleasure is something we'll share," he promised.

A new song came through the speakers.

She slowly stepped away from the coat, her heels clicking as she made her way over to the antique sofa.

As she grew closer, the walk turned to a saunter, to a sashay, to a slow dance. And then she was everywhere all at once: behind him, caressing his shoulders, sliding her hands down his shirt sleeves, whirling around him, hovering over him, her hips rhythmically swiveling in midair…and he was lost.

Without warning, her pulled her onto his lap and kissed her like he'd never let go.

She latched onto his shoulders and laced her fingers behind his head, gripping the dark ends of his hair in a way that was rough in its inhibition. Rough…and claiming.

It was some time later when she was collapsed in his arms, his hands tracing lazy circles over the exposed patches of skin on her thighs, that she asked his opinion again.

"I hope I didn't disappoint, Mr. Bass."

He wound his fingers through her dark curls. "You never fail to amaze me, baby." The last word was whispered in her ear, like a secret. Endearments were a rarity for Chuck Bass, usually reserved only for the most intimate of moments, and Blair treasured them all the more for this reason.

Their lips met again, lingering, and though they were costumed and in character, they had perhaps never been more themselves, more bare.

* * *

It was another evening, another kind of dress-up, not long after.

All heads turned at the Bass Industries gala when Charles Bass and Blair Waldorf strolled in, arm in arm. Chuck, as per usual, looked like he'd just stepped off the pages of the latest GQ magazine, his crisp white shirt and black tuxedo perfectly matching his coloring and his date. The young lady wore a floor-length black taffeta gown accented with a startlingly beautiful statement necklace and long black satin gloves. They looked like Old Hollywood had come to life.

"They make a beautiful couple," Cyrus Rose noted to his companion.

"Hmm," Eleanor Waldorf's response was noncommittal.

Cyrus' eyes darted to the lady's face. "I thought you were warming up to Chuck. You did say you designed some costumes for his club?"

"I did. And I am warming up a bit, but…," she broke off as the young couple headed their way. "Blair, I want you to meet someone. This is Cyrus Rose, who handled the partnership with Bass Industries for me."

Blair smiled and extended a hand to the jovial little man. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Mother's spoken very highly of you."

Cyrus bypassed her hand and pulled her into an enthusiastic and awkward embrace. "A handshake? Not enough!"

Blair's eyes flew wide open and the look on her face indicated that the gesture may have been "too much, too soon." Before she could recover her equilibrium, Cyrus had moved on to Chuck, who appeared to take the hug with better grace, or at least quiet acceptance.

The meeting was cut short by the signal that Bart Bass' "State of the Company" address was about to begin. Bart began by going over Bass Industries' recent and upcoming projects, even inviting Chuck to make some remarks on Victrola.

Blair's eyes never left Chuck as he spoke to the crowd and her proud smile was beaming.

Cyrus nudged Eleanor. "I don't think you need to worry about Blair's relationship with Chuck. They never take their eyes off each other, especially if they think no one is watching."

"She's just so different with him. I look at her sometimes and I barely recognize her." Something in Eleanor's voice sounded sad. "I was so busy trying to build my business…trying to keep my marriage together…I never noticed that my little girl was growing up."

"Well, it seems you've raised her well. She's intelligent, poised…and she seems happy."

Eleanor's eyes followed over to where Chuck had rejoined Blair and was leading her onto the dance floor. She could not disagree.

* * *

"I think this calls for champagne," Blair announced as soon as they were back in Chuck's suite.

"The gala was definitely a success." Chuck removed a magnum of finely aged Dom and two champagne flutes from the bar and set about decanting it.

" _You_ were a success." Pride came through in every syllable. "Everyone loved your speech, even Bart."

Their glasses clinked together.

"I still can't believe it." Chuck seemed bemused.

"Believe." She set down her glass and took his face in her hands, staring up at him with a smile and welling eyes.

And then she kissed him.

He returned the kiss as if he were starving for her lips on his. The heat between them, once ignited, only grew in intensity.

He could feel her strip the bow tie from his collar, unbutton his jacket, release the buttons on his shirt, let her fingers tangle in his hair.

Blindly, he somehow found the zipper on her gown and an ebony cascade of fabric slid to the floor. He lifted her into his arms effortlessly and then Blair was completely wrapped around him and nothing else existed.

They were floating on the waves of the sheets, swimming in bliss…moving towards each other, against each other, with each other…

"Your lips taste like champagne," he murmured as he drew her lower lip between his.

"I love champagne," she sighed against his mouth. Her eyes opened dreamily and then locked on his and he was completely under her spell.

And then the unthinkable happened.

"I love you." The words slipped unbidden from his tongue.

Time stopped.

Breaths stopped.

They were hanging by a moment with only the sound of their racing heartbeats in the frozen silence.

What the hell had he just done?!

Shock and fear blazed through him before giving way to a determined certainty: planned or no, they were the truest words he had ever spoken.

And then a strong sense of anticipation overcame him and he waited for her reaction.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted.

Surely she felt it too? Was she going to say it?

"I…I…."

In the name of all bad timing, a loud rapping sounded at the door.

"Yes?" Chuck's response came from between clenched teeth.

"Do you require turndown service this evening, Mr. Bass?" a voice called from the other side of the suite door.

"No, thank you."

"Have a pleasant evening then." The voice moved further down the hall.

Chuck turned back to look at Blair, but she was already pulling him back into her arms.

So they let go of the panic that was sweeping through them and channeled it into a single-minded passion for each other.

* * *

"You in, Bass?"

Chuck was shaken from his reverie by the question.

"Weekend in Atlantic City. Grey Goose…gambling…girls? You know, unless you're too busy playing Queen B's handmaiden."

Chuck looked annoyed, Nate looked vaguely alarmed and the rest of the group just snickered.

"Sure. When?"

The young man named a date that gave Chuck pause—it was the weekend Blair's father was supposed to be visiting from Paris. Maybe she wouldn't mind? Maybe she'd even be glad to have more time to spend with her dad?

Trouble was, since the fateful night he'd said those three words/8 letters to Blair, he hadn't been at all certain of her feelings—on that or any other matter.

He thought she'd been on the cusp of replying when they were interrupted, but she'd simply gone back to kissing him and then they'd been lost in the moment.

He thought she'd surely respond the next morning…

The next day…

But over a week had gone by since then and still…no response.

Oh, she was still responsive to him. Her kisses were still passionate; her fingers still entwined with his; her eyes still locked on his.

But now there was a distance, a mystery, and it made him uncomfortable in a way he hadn't anticipated.

He went from waiting for her to say the words to resolving that he would not say them again until she did.

Maybe he had made a mistake in the timing. He'd spoken too soon and he was damn lucky that Blair was prepared to pretend that it hadn't even happened.

Except it had, and he was not prepared to develop amnesia about the subject. Maybe he hadn't meant to say it just then, but he knew it was true. And he'd thought it was true for her too.

She'd chosen him, chosen _them._ Over Nate. Over her mother's objections. Over the gossip and judgment of their peers. Not just once, but over and over again. Didn't that mean she felt it too?

If you said those three words to someone and they felt the same, weren't they supposed to say them back?

In truth, Chuck didn't know. He'd never before uttered the words to anyone and no one had ever said them to him. He hadn't realized just how very much he wanted Blair to be the first person he heard them from.

Maybe such delays were normal? Maybe she was saving the words for a special time?

He didn't know.

He only knew that waiting was a big gamble, one even Atlantic City could not hope to rival.

* * *

Chuck Bass ended up skipping the Atlantic City trip.

When Blair's father arrived back in Manhattan, it was with his French boyfriend Roman in tow…and Blair's hopes of reconciliation between her parents or at least a chance to persuade her father to move back to New York were shattered.

Blair had gone into scheming overload, enlisting Chuck's help in tracking down one of Roman's model exes and arranging for him to cross paths with her father and Roman.

As schemes went, it had been a bust. Harold and Roman were still joined at the hip.

If she could just get her father alone to talk…

She finally had some success on the walk to the ice rink. Until her father shared the 'great news' that he had just bought a chateau…in France…with Roman. He wasn't coming back home, now or ever.

The announcement drove Blair to new depths of desperation. She had to stop this!

Before she could formulate a new plan, however, Chuck arrived on the ice and for a couple moments, her attention was focused on him alone. She basked in the attention he paid to her matching plaid capelet and the short skirt that showed off her legs (he always loved her legs) in white tights. No one could relax her like Chuck.

Unfortunately, she got too relaxed. Deep in conversation, she totally blocked out the shouts of her father requesting help with Roman, who was a figure skating fiasco just waiting to happen. The Frenchman, usually so graceful on the catwalk, was a like a fish out of water on the ice. His legs seemed to go in opposite directions and his tall form flailed helplessly. Roman was still calling for Blair's help as he tried to skate towards the wall where she and Chuck were standing.

Now, if Blair had been paying attention, perhaps she might have attempted a bit of extra scheming and tripped the poor man, but as it was, she couldn't even avoid the collision of an out-of-control Roman careening straight into her. Her ankle twisted beneath her and she found herself embarrassingly sprawled on the ice, yelping in pain.

Roman was effusively apologetic. Her father was solicitous, to both her and Roman. It was Chuck who gently pulled her to her feet and to the edge of the rink and then carried her to his limo to get checked out at the hospital.

X-rays revealed that no bones were broken, but the nasty sprain would require rest, ice, compression and elevation to heal in the remaining two weeks before Cotillion. Blair seethed all the way home.

Her mood was not improved by finding Eleanor enjoying brunch with Cyrus Rose in the dining room. The pair looked disconcerted to see Blair and Chuck and they looked suspiciously cozy. Almost like…a date? No! Inconceivable! Her rage flared again.

By the time Chuck got her carried upstairs and settled onto her bed, Blair's temper was about to burst.

"You!" She glared at Chuck. "This is all your fault!" she hissed.

"My fault? How is this my fault?"

"I was off my game. If you hadn't been distracting me, this would never have happened!"

"They're called accidents, Blair," he said with a greater patience than he felt, "because they are unintended."

Blair grumbled on, undeterred. "If this doesn't heal up, we could miss Cotillion."

"You know, I'm only here to help you. I could be at a guys' weekend in Atlantic City right now."

"Then why aren't you?" she snarled. "I don't even know why you're here."

"Don't you?" He raised an eyebrow and she looked back at him quizzically.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Blair, did you hear what I said to you?"

"Just now?" She was still confused.

"No, the other night. After the gala. In my suite. Before we were interrupted."

A look that could only be characterized as fear spread across her face.

He pushed on. "Did that mean anything to you? Do you have any response to that?"

"I—I can't…," she faltered, unable to look at him. "That was a mistake."

"A mistake? That's your response? It was a mistake?!" His voice rose in volume. In all his life, Chuck Bass had never been so angry. "If that's how you feel, then I guess it was."

She flinched as though he had struck her, and that just made him angrier. How dare she act as though she were the wronged party when she was the one rejecting his feelings? His heart and his pride were still smarting from the wounds she had just inflicted.

Tears welled in her eyes and her voice cracked as tried to find something to say to counter the hurtful words he'd just said. "You want to go be Chuck Bass in Atlantic City? Fine, leave. Everyone leaves."

She was kicking him out. For a moment, he just stood there looking at her. He'd been a fool to think this could end any other way than it was ending right now. He was not the hero, not the prince in the fairy tale. And he had just been exiled from the kingdom by the queen herself.

He'd been bemused by that first kiss and clearly he hadn't been in his right mind ever since. Why was he standing here feeling completely eviscerated by her?

He turned on his heel and began to move toward the door, slowly at first and then more deliberation. If asked, he would have vehemently denied that he was half listening for her to call his name.

Silence.

Blair sat frozen on the bed until she heard the sound of the elevator doors closing. Only then did she allow the tears suspended on her lashes to roll down her cheeks and a whispered "I love you, Chuck" to escape her lips.

To Be Continued in Chapter 11

* * *

Author's Note:

It's not my usual happy ending to a chapter, is it? Hang in there, readers, a bend in the road is not the end of the road.

My apologies that this chapter is overdue. I was in the hospital for close to a week with pneumonia and heart issues brought on by the pneumonia. It was really scary and I'm so relieved to be home, even though I still feel weak. Readers, if you haven't already gotten a flu and pneumonia vaccine, I'd recommend considering it.

Special thanks to Chrys1130, Shrk22 and mercury1893 for beta assistance.

Thoughts on this chapter? I'd love to hear from you. Please drop me a review.

Xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

_Last time in the Kissverse: Chuck and Blair were so happy together that Chuck said those three little words…and it created one big problem._

Chapter 11

 _Greetings, Upper East Siders. "Now is the winter of our discontent" is a famous literary quote—and a new way of life for Queen B and her king. There is a distinct chill in the air between the Constance-St. Jude supercouple, though heated glances are still being exchanged. But is that the heat of battle or the heat of passion in their eyes? Is this merely a tiff or is it the end of the road for our royals? They do say that uneasy lies the head that wears the crown—keep me posted on whether love still reigns…._

* * *

When Chuck had stormed out of the Waldorf apartment that day, Blair allowed herself the luxury of a good cry and a sulkfest. Although she did not voice it, even to herself, she'd hoped against hope that even though she'd told him to 'go be Chuck Bass' in Atlantic City that he would return and just be her Chuck again.

He went.

When the Gossip Girl blast came through with pics of him, glass in hand, surrounded by a bevy of buxom beauties, Blair told herself it was to be expected. He was Chuck Bass, after all, and a girl would have to be a fool to fall for him and trust him.

She was all kinds of a fool.

If only she had known…known that the last time he'd held her hand, the last time he'd kissed her lips would indeed be the last…well, maybe she might have said those three little words. If he were going to leave anyway, what would it matter?

Except if he had really meant the words he'd said, he never would've left at all. So the words meant nothing.

However much she wished they did.

* * *

Chuck Bass hated Atlantic City.

He had the finest liquors, though they were not nearly as intoxicating as Blair.

He was surrounded by beautiful and available women. They failed to raise his interest in the slightest.

Everywhere he turned there were thrilling games of chance—but what more thrilling game of chance was there than Blair Waldorf?

He missed Blair and wanted nothing more than to call her and rush back to her.

Then he remembered: three little words that he'd said but she couldn't say in return. If she didn't love him, then surely it was better to know now, to make a clean break.

Except he didn't feel he'd made a clean break; he just felt broken.

'Everyone leaves.' It had been the last thing she'd said and the words still haunted him. Surely she didn't think he wanted to go? Why would he have willingly signed up for feeling like part of his heart had been ripped out of his chest?

For perhaps the first time in his life, Chuck was eager to go back to school on Monday. He could meet Blair on neutral ground. True, she had not contacted him since he'd stormed out, but maybe she had missed him a little?

God knows he'd been dying without her. His attempts at 'being Chuck Bass' had all fallen shy of the mark and he had a terrifying suspicion that he was no longer himself without her.

But if he could just see her…look into her eyes, then he would know if there was hope.

So when Monday morning came, he was ready, bouquet of peonies in hand.

He stepped out of the limo in front of the school and it only took seconds for him to spot her…smiling and chatting amiably…with Nate.

He dropped the bouquet on the seat and shut the car door. He did not glance her way a second time, nor did he notice that she seemed to be deliberately avoiding his eyes as well.

It did not, however, escape the notice of their peers. Within moments, tips started pouring into Gossip Girl that ChuckandBlair/BlairandChuck was possibly no more.

By the next morning, Blair was sitting on the Met steps, holding court to perhaps a half dozen suitors, all presumably hoping they might become her new escort to Cotillion. Blair was in her element, smiling, flirting, issuing commands. It was a scene straight out of Scarlett O'Hara at the Twelve Oaks barbecue in _Gone with the Wind._

Chuck gave no visible signs of reaction. He seemed to be busy socializing with his friends and soaking up the appreciative looks and flirtatious waves of the female populace.

But something odd happened the following morning.

One suitor was missing from the Met steps.

The next day, it was two missing suitors.

The day after that, Blair was completely alone. And furious.

She marched straight up to Chuck, ignoring any and all of the people surrounding him, and gave him her best intimidating glare.

In return, he gave her a little smirk and a lingering (perhaps longing?) study of her face.

And that was the beginning of the eye sex.

* * *

Blair was in the ladies room the following morning, reapplying her lipstick, when Serena tracked her down.

"Blair, what is going with you and Chuck?"

"Haven't we already had this conversation once? Like, ages ago?" Blair rolled her eyes.

"We did, and you lied to me and said you were just friends. And I told you friends didn't kiss like that, and hmm, guess I was right." Serena looked insufferably smug.

"Well, genius of love, looks like your powers of observation aren't what they used to be, because there is no 'Chuck and I' anymore." She'd intended the words to come out coolly, so she was horrified when her voice cracked on the last words.

"I thought you two were just having a little fight. I've been waiting for things to get better, but they seem to be getting worse. Why?"

"Because it's over." Good, her voice held steady. If she didn't say too many words, maybe she could pull this off.

Serena stared. "But why? I thought you two were happy together. I've never seen you so happy before."

"Things change," Blair sniffed.

"What changed, Blair?"

If Serena hadn't sounded so gentle and Blair's heart hadn't been aching so much, maybe she wouldn't have responded, but the words came tumbling out: "Three little words were said—three very important words—and they ruined everything."

"Three words?"

"You know, three words, eight letters; starts with an 'I' and ends with a 'you'?" Blair turned back to study her reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, Blair," Serena moved closer and put a hand on Blair's shoulder, "I'm so sorry. That must have been awful. If it's any consolation, everyone knows he's crazy, over-the-moon, out-of-his-mind in love with you. Maybe he just can't say it yet."

Blair shook her head and let out a bitter little laugh. "No, you don't understand. He said it, and when I couldn't say it back, he…left me."

Serena openly gaped. "Chuck told you he loves you?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't say it back?"

"I couldn't."

"Why? It's perfectly obvious to anyone with eyes that you love him too."

"Apparently not to him."

"I don't think Chuck's ever said that to any girl before, maybe not even to any other person, but he said it to you, so that's….wow."

Blair averted her eyes and remained silent.

"How did he say it? Tell me everything!"

"S, my life is not some soap opera designed to amuse you. Besides, I don't even think he meant to say it."

"Didn't mean to say it?" Serena's nose wrinkled in confusion. "Was it…during an intimate moment?"

"Just before."

"Well, did he take it back?"

"Nooo," she admitted, "it was several days before he brought it up again. He wanted a response, but I couldn't give him one."

"Why not? You do love him, don't you?"

"Of course I do. He's made me happier than I've ever been."

"Then why not tell him?"

"You of all people should know the answer to that."

Serena just looked at her blankly.

"Saying 'I love you' has never done me any favors. It didn't keep my dad here. It didn't keep you from going to boarding school. It didn't make Nate love me back. Everyone leaves."

Serena sighed. "Blair, your dad lives in France, not on the moon. Maybe he's not here every day, but he came here just to visit you. I wish my dad wanted any kind of contact with me at all."

It was Blair's turn to squeeze her friend's arm and console her.

Serena was not to be deterred. "Yes, I went to boarding school, but I came back. And you were one of the reasons I wanted to come back." Her eyes were pleading with Blair to understand. "Maybe you lost Nate, but you would've never gotten Chuck if you hadn't."

Since she had no counterargument to that point, Blair ignored it. "I just…just couldn't have borne it if he'd laughed or left."

"So you pushed him away instead? That makes no sense, B."

"Well, it doesn't matter now anyway. I'm so angry with him." She went on to explain how Chuck had made her suitors disappear.

"It sounds to me like Chuck really doesn't want this thing between you to be over."

"Well, it is over, and if he keeps this up, I'm never going to find another escort to Cotillion."

"I sort of thought you might be going with Nate? You were talking to him yesterday morning. Even Chuck noticed."

Blair tried and failed to hide her little smile of victory. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm setting Nate up with Penelope."

"But it would be only be natural to go with your ex if you and Chuck have broken up for good."

"My dear, sweet Serena, haven't you heard? When we are done with our toys, we're supposed to give them to the less fortunate—and who is less fortunate than Penelope?" She paused. "Besides, you are already going with Brooklyn, so you were off the table, so to speak, as an option for Nate."

Blair seemed to be awfully consumed by everyone's dates for Cotillion—with the exception of herself and Chuck. It seemed very unlike Blair. But Cotillion wasn't until after New Year's, so who knew what might happen between Serena's friends between now and then? Perhaps a little Christmas miracle was just what they needed.

"Did you know Nate and his mom are going to spend Christmas with the van der Bilts in Connecticut this year?"

A shadow passed over Blair's face. "But Chuck usually spends Christmas with Nate. What will he do?"

"I don't know. I think Bart may be out of the country again." Serena watched Blair and noted that she had her thinking face on.

Perhaps her friend could be inspired to engineer her own Christmas miracle this year.

* * *

It was not the Christmas Eve Blair had imagined. True, Daddy had been there and the family dinner had been pleasant, but something (someone?) was missing. She must stop brooding about this. She would get over Chuck; she had to.

She wondered what he was doing right now…

If pressed, she would not have been able to name the exact sound or clue that indicated someone was downstairs. She was simply aware of a presence and decided to go investigate. She slipped into her robe and slippers, then crept down the darkened staircase.

There was a shadowy figure bending over the tree.

"Stop right there!"

The figure froze, then slowly stood up and turned around.

The light from the gas fireplace cast a glow on the uninvited guest, revealing his identity. Not that she needed the firelight; she would've known that silhouette anywhere.

She gasped. "Chuck, what are you doing here?" Blair hissed. "It's Christmas Eve and it's after midnight…so I suppose it's really Christmas Day now."

"Just paying a little holiday visit." His eyes roamed over the filmy, semi-sheer robe and focused on the red silk babydoll nightgown with giant polka dots. The neckline was demure, above her collarbone, but the hem was temptingly short, revealing a generous expanse of thigh that he knew from experience would be even silkier than her gown. His visual tour continued down to sleek shins and delicate ankles, which he noted were both unswollen now.

"Your ankle looks better."

"It is, thanks." As if it suddenly occurred to her that she was in her night clothes, Blair wrapped the robe more tightly around her and knotted the sash.

He continued to stare.

"Stop looking at me! You've been staring at me all week!"

"And you've been staring right back," he countered. "I like looking at you, and I'm not the only one. You've had quite the collection of suitors lately."

"Not anymore, thanks to you. I know you got rid of them, Chuck. Don't even try to pretend that you didn't."

He was unrepentant. "They were obscuring my view."

She frowned.

"Of you," he explained.

The words made her angry, because how dare he stand there in front of the tree, perfect from the crisp points of his red bow tie to his artfully tousled dark locks. If only he would stop looking at her that way, the way that made it hard for her to breathe….

She snorted. "It didn't seem like you were looking too hard for me in Atlantic City."

"You were the one who told me to go."

Her jaw clenched. "I never thought you actually would!" She hadn't meant to say that, certainly not so angrily or so loudly.

"Please, we both know my going had nothing to do with Atlantic City and everything to do with what came before…," he caught himself, "But I didn't come here to argue with you tonight."

"Then why did you come here? Tell me again, Chuck, why are you here…in _my_ living room…by _my_ Christmas tree? Is this some weird version of _How the Bass Stole Christmas_?"

"I'm not here to take anything. I just came to leave you this." He pulled a small, decorated box out of his pocket.

"And what is that?" She tried to sound haughty but was not entirely successful.

"Waldorf, your powers of observation are failing you. It's a gift…for you." He handed it to her and they were both a little shaken by the current of electricity that passed between them at the touch of their fingers.

"Why would you do that? We aren't together anymore." The words might have been harsh, but they came out as an awed whisper.

"It's yours. Besides…," he hesitated.

"Besides?"

"Blair, I know what you did tonight."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The reply was quick, perhaps a little too quick.

"You don't know why my father had an interview scheduled today about Bass Industries that kept getting mysteriously postponed and was ultimately canceled so that he had to stay in town tonight?"

Blair looked suitably innocent. He could almost see the light shining off her hair as a sort of halo.

"It had all the hallmarks of a good scheme designed so I wouldn't be alone on Christmas Eve…like something someone who cared might do?"

The corners of her lips turned up just the slightest bit. If he hadn't been looking, he might have missed it.

She looked at the box in her hand. "May I open this now?"

He nodded. Fine, let her change the subject.

She removed the lid from the box and a bevy of diamonds set in white gold blinked at her. It was a bracelet in the exact style of her Erickson Beamon necklace.

"It's—it's beautiful," she gasped.

"I custom ordered it a long time ago. When it came, I thought of sending it back…but it belongs to you."

"But I didn't get you anything!"

"I think we both know that you did. My father and I had a nice dinner and talked." He took the box out of Blair's hands and placed it on the coffee table before taking her hands in his. "Blair, when I left for Atlantic City, I thought you didn't care, and maybe I pushed you to say those three words/eight letters when I shouldn't have…. You said everyone leaves—if you give me another chance, I swear to you that I never will again."

It was everything she could've asked for, dangling right in front of her. But…

"What if I still can't say it, Chuck?"

He could handle this. He could handle anything, but he couldn't handle life without her. He could love enough for them both. "I won't expect you to. I won't say it either, if you don't want me to."

"Did you mean it?" She couldn't help it; she had to know.

He hesitated. He'd said it before, sure, but they'd been lost in the moment. Could he say it here and now, without any passionate distractions, without any hope of her saying it back?

He took a deep breath.

Chuck Bass may have been weak at certain moments in his life, but he swore this was not going to be one of them.

He brought his hands up to her face, cradling her cheeks with the most gentle of touches and gazing into her dark eyes. "I love you, Blair. I mean that with all my heart. I won't leave you again, even if you beg me to."

She went very still and tears welled in her eyes. "Can you say it again?"

"I love you." He kissed her right cheek and then her left.

"Again?"

"I love you." Then his lips met hers.

The lights on the tree looked like a million shimmering butterflies.

"Chuck?" she whispered against his lips, "Just because I can't say it right now doesn't mean I don't feel it…or that I won't ever say it…just…give me time?"

He kissed her again and pulled her closer.

"Will you stay?" The words were whispered against his ear this time. They may not have been the three words he was hoping for, but they were still a welcome invitation.

She took a step back and gestured to the sash on her robe. "I may not have a present for you, but I have something I think you'll enjoy unwrapping." She grabbed a sprig of mistletoe off one of the ornaments on the tree and held it over her head.

"We don't need mistletoe." Chuck took the sprig from her fingers and tossed it aside. "I'm going to kiss you all night long," he promised, scooping her into his arms and heading for the staircase.

"Merry Kissmas to me," she settled into his arms with a sigh, "And to all a good night."

To Be Continued in Chapter 12

* * *

Author's Note:

Birthday shout-out to Chrys1130, who is celebrating this week, and an extra special thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my Limoversary story, "Save the Date."

In the spirit of this season of Thanksgiving, I want to thank you, my readers, for being part of my story family and sharing our love of all things Chuck and Blair. Thank you for your support and kind words. Hope you are all enjoying the holiday season.

Next up for our couple: Cotillion!...or is it? Stay tuned.

Xoxo


	12. Chapter 12

_Last time in the Kissverse: Chuck and Blair respectively struggled with their breakup, but Blair's scheme for Bart to spend Christmas Eve with Chuck convinced Chuck to try (and succeed!) at a reconciliation. Mistletoe not required._

Chapter 12

It was the wee hours of Christmas morning, and in the Waldorf penthouse, only two creatures were stirring, blessedly wrapped up in each other and feeling a thrill, an elation that no word in their native language could adequately describe.

Chuck paused a moment to look down at Blair. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen to plump perfection and curved into a little smile. And her eyes…those amazing doe eyes were looking up at him with a cocktail of emotions: passion, tenderness, and a feeling she hadn't been to say out loud yet…

Her lips slowly parted….

Was she taking a much-needed breath or was she preparing to say something…those all-important 3 words/8 letters maybe?

Chuck's own breath hitched. Before he could stop it, anticipation overwhelmed him. He pressed his body even closer to hers and let one hand come up to trace the contours of her mouth.

Blair took a shaky breath and the warmth of the air exiting her lips sent a shudder through his fingers, up his arm, straight to his heart.

She was going to say it!

He looked at her, encouraging her with his eyes and trying to let all the love he felt for her shine through.

"Mmm." It was a blissful sigh, but not what he had been hoping for.

His face fell. He could handle this, he reminded himself. He had told her he could wait. Surely, he could wait longer than an hour. They had all the time in the world.

He suddenly realized she was looking at him intently, almost willing him to speak.

He wasn't going to say it again, not until she did…but she touched his face and whispered a single word with quiet urgency: "Please."

The words were right there. He wanted to say them; it was almost a physical pain not to. And she wanted to hear them.

Like a Greek sailor enchanted by the sirens' song, he could not resist. "I love you, Blair."

Her smile was blinding as she pulled him back into her arms and words were no longer necessary.

* * *

It was some time later when Chuck slowly blinked his eyes open. He immediately knew where he was…and with whom. He could feel Blair, smell her, still taste her on his tongue.

And this was bad. Because he needed to get up and go home. They would be in so much trouble were they to be caught in flagrante, and chances were doubled with Eleanor at one end of the hall, and Harold and Roman at the other. They might just as well give Bart a room and let them be completely surrounded.

It was time to go, no matter how much he wanted to stay.

He slid to the edge of the bed. Blair rolled over, closing the distance between them, and curled into him, sighing in her sleep.

He sighed right along with her and wove his fingers through the dark waves of her hair. She was not making it easy, and she wasn't even trying.

Ever so slowly, he gently slid from under the warmth of her body and stood up, tucking the covers back around her sleeping form.

He hadn't taken two steps before her eyes flew open.

"Chuck?" There was still sleep in her voice.

He was back at her side in an instant. "Shh." He kissed her cheek.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." It sounded strange to his ears, because home somehow felt like wherever she was now. "It's late."

"It is," she agreed, "but you promised you'd kiss me all night long." She glanced at the sliver of night sky showing between her closed curtains. "Night's not over yet." She purred the words in his ear as she pulled him back under the covers.

He had never been more grateful for starlight.

* * *

Blair did her best to stifle the yawn that threatened to overcome her…again.

"Blair, I can't imagine why you're so tired. You went to bed at a reasonable hour last night," Eleanor frowned.

To bed, yes, but not to sleep. Blair focused on looking the picture of wide-awake, doe-eyed innocence.

"Did you have bad dreams, Blair-bear? I thought I heard some noise coming from your room, but Roman told me I was just unused to the sounds of a city again. It's so quiet at the chateau."

Blair eyes slid to Chuck, who was seated to her left. Chuck had been a last-minute guest at the Waldorf Christmas luncheon, but he arrived bearing gifts and charming everyone. Harold and Roman received coordinating cashmere scarves; Eleanor, a very expensive vintage of wine; and Dorota was thrilled with a holiday bouquet and a box of the finest European chocolates. If anyone wondered how Chuck Bass managed to produce the perfect presents on Christmas morning with no advance warning, they were all too polite to say so.

Everyone gushed over Blair's new bracelet, which lent some sparkle to her velvet dress. Eleanor, however, did inquire what her daughter had given Charles.

There was an awkward pause where Blair fumbled for words, before Chuck smoothly interjected, "Something priceless: her kind invitation to lunch with you today and the pleasure of her company."

Was it Blair's imagination that he seemed the draw out the word 'pleasure'? It certainly wasn't imaginary that his hand found her leg and began drawing lazy circles that drew ever closer to the delicate skin on her inner thigh. He started with the textured silk of the stocking that covered her knees and rose several inches up her leg.

The doe eyes were still in full effect, though she deliberately wasn't looking at him.

His fingers flirted with the elasticized lace at the top of her stocking, exploring a patch of skin that was unequaled in silkiness and sensitivity.

She still wasn't looking at him, but he could tell she wasn't unaffected. The almost undetectable change in her breathing and slight shudder that ran through her body gave her away. He could study Blair all day, cataloging each minute reaction and pushing for just a little bit more…

He shouldn't be doing this; he knew it. Her parents were across the table and her Dorota was fluttering around the table, overseeing the luncheon. But the linen tablecloth was long enough to conceal his actions and her skin was so soft… If he was being naughty, Chuck felt sure Santa wouldn't hold it against him.

Then he felt it: Blair's fingers had wandered onto his leg and were squeezing his right knee. Was it a warning? A dare? A preview?

He could feel the warmth of her hand even through the woolen artistry of Turnbull & Asser's finest tailoring. She had just upped the ante.

His mouth went dry and he reached for the goblet of water with his left hand, only to be startled by her hand moving up his pants leg. Oh, no, she was not shy.

They had been up all night celebrating their reunion…and it was not enough.

He sneaked a look at Blair and she ever so subtly raised her own water goblet and gave him a radiant smile.

He was taking that as a dare.

His hand went higher, reaching the edge of the lace of her panties…he was so close….

Suddenly, Blair gasped and began to cough. She let go of his leg and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers and letting their joined hands rest at a safer point on her lap.

They remained there for the rest of the meal, with no one the wiser.

* * *

Dorota had cleared the luncheon plates and was preparing to serve dessert when the elevator chimed. She disappeared for a moment and returned…with Bart Bass in tow!

Chuck and Blair were so surprised they instantly unlinked their hands and sat up a little straighter.

"Guess who's coming to dinner," Chuck mumbled under his breath.

"Bart!" Eleanor was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Then she and the party got a look who was with him…. "And Lily!"

Dorota managed to stop staring long enough to say, "Here, I take coats."

Bart helped Lily slip out of her fur before divesting himself of his own coat. Then he turned to the company and beamed when he spotted Chuck. "Son! We were looking for you. We stopped by your suite first, and then took a gamble you'd be here."

Chuck and Blair shared a quick look of mutual confusion.

"I must still be asleep and dreaming," Blair whispered.

Chuck made a dubious noise; they both knew she'd barely slept the night before.

"Hallucinating then," she conceded.

"You were looking for me, Father?" Chuck turned his full attention to the newly arrived couple.

"Yes, we have news!" Lily was all smiles.

"Important news," Bart amended.

"And we wanted you to be the first to know, Charles...," she paused for breath.

"We're getting married!" they finished together.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Eleanor recovered first. "Well, this calls for champagne. And of course you'll stay for dessert? Dorota, set two more places at the table."

Harold smiled, Roman clapped and Dorota was back on the run, serving.

Chuck got up and went to shake his father's hand. "Congratulations, Father, Lily." He gave a courtly bow and kissed her hand. Blair followed suit, shaking both their hands.

When the couple had been toasted and everyone was enjoying the red velvet cheesecake dessert, talk turned to the wedding.

Lily toyed with the large diamond ring on her finger. "I think a spring wedding would be lovely," she looked coyly at Bart, who nodded and beamed.

"I didn't even realize you two were seeing each other." Eleanor was still trying to put it all together.

"Me neither," Blair murmured under her breath. She took advantage of everyone looking at Bart and Lily to whisper to Chuck, "How long have you known?"

"Just since yesterday."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Well, I was a little preoccupied last night." He ran his hand down the length of her thigh again.

"We didn't want to say anything until we were sure," Lily explained.

"It just kind of took us by surprise," Bart added.

Chuck stole another look at Blair. "The best things do."

"How did your children take the news, Lily?" Eleanor was still curious.

"We're going to tell them as soon as we leave here." Lily sounded a bit nervous.

"Be sure to tell Serena that if we have to share a room, I want the top bunk," Chuck smirked.

And then it occurred to him that in addition to getting back together with Blair, he was also getting a stepmother, stepsister and stepbrother for Christmas.

God bless us, every one.

* * *

The time between Christmas and the New Year was a magical, almost honeymoon time for Chuck and Blair.

They seemed to always be together: ice skating, strolling through a snowy Central Park, drinking Nutella hot chocolate with brandy at Boqueria, and throwing a smashing New Year's Eve party at Victrola.

It was perfect, except for one thing: Blair still hadn't said those 3 words/8 letters. Oh, Chuck would sometimes look at her and it looked like her heart was in her eyes and the words were at the tip of her tongue, but…he was still waiting.

He still said the words to her, of course, when they said goodnight…when they made love…sometimes for no reason at all other than they couldn't be contained. But how amazing would it be to hear them back from her lips?

All too soon, winter break was over and they were back at Constance Billard/St. Jude's.

Chuck rounded the corner at Constance, on the hunt for Blair. He had already passed some time torturing Serena with horror stories of their upcoming family bond. He honestly didn't see what she was worried about. Sure, she and Eric had had bad stepfather experiences before, but could his own father be any worse than some obscure European nobleman or their own absentee father?

Of course Chuck was still in shock that his father was contemplating marriage again; he'd never thought Bart would. Over the years, when asked about remarrying or finding a new mother for Chuck, Bart had always insisted that "Bass men only love once." Apparently he was no longer subscribed to this belief, but Chuck still believed. He couldn't imagine ever feeling about anyone else the way he did about Blair.

Suddenly, the object of his thoughts and affections appeared just a few feet ahead of him down the hall.

Talking to Nate, who was handing her something.

Chuck stopped short, waiting to see what happened next. And if he happened to overhear their conversation…well, it was a public hallway and he was just a curious bystander.

"…and I found it sewn inside one of my sweaters. I figured you might want to have it back," Nate explained.

"I put it there, remember? So you would always have my heart on your sleeve."

"But now your heart belongs to someone else, so maybe you have other uses for this charm."

Blair smiled then. "Oh, I do. Definitely." She pocketed the token. "Thank you." She squeezed Nate's arm before he took off back in the direction of St. Jude's.

Chuck stood frozen in the hall. He remembered when Blair had originally given it to Nate. Chuck had downplayed the gesture as 'silly' and 'corny,' but secretly he had twinges of envy over the gesture (and perhaps the giver—Had he had feelings for Blair even then?).

Now Blair had the charm back. And she had smiled and said she had plans for it. Was she…could she be thinking of giving it to him? Cotillion was this weekend. What better occasion for Blair to give him the heart and to say those words he coveted above all else?

He turned on his heel and got out his phone. He needed to go over and possibly revamp all his plans for Cotillion right away.

It was going to be the perfect night. For both of them.

* * *

When the evening of Cotillion arrived, Chuck was more than ready. He was confident that he had pulled out all the stops in setting up a perfect evening. He had researched extensively, even going so far as to swipe Blair's childhood Cotillion wishbook and to sneak into her closet at the Waldorf Penthouse to get a peek at her dress. Everything was lined up to coordinate with her childhood dreams and Eleanor Waldorf's designing skill.

So he felt perfectly calm and cool standing at the foot of the stairs and waiting for Blair to appear.

When she did, he immediately lost every bit of that cool.

Oh…my…goddess.

He had seen the dress, yes, but on a hanger, not on her; and on her, it was perfection. The silver damask silk sheath showcased delicate curves and a lithe form. The gown was open up to the knee and revealed shapely legs in delicate silver pumps. God, he loved those legs.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek chignon, offering full view of the porcelain column of her neck and the Art Nouveau artistry of the Erickson Beamon necklace that decorated her décolletage. God, he loved that neck!

Pristine white gloves covered her hands, calling attention to bare arms and the stunning bracelet that had been her Christmas present. God, he loved this girl!

She stopped at the landing in the middle of the staircase. Their eyes locked and for a moment it was hard to breathe.

Then it was Blair's turn to inspect him. Her eyes raked over the perfectly polished Italian leather shoes, the expertly fitted black tuxedo with satin lapels, snowy white shirt linen and a matching bow tie.

She gave him a little smile and continued down the steps.

He was waiting at the bottom with a ready arm. As they exited the penthouse, Blair caught a glimpse of them in the pier glass mirror. He paused and they both looked at their reflections together. They both looked like they wanted to say something. The words were right there, on the tips of their tongues, in the depths of their eyes… She looked away first, but he was still standing behind her, his lips close to the shell of her ear.

He wanted to say those 3 words/8 letters so badly. He could feel them rise in his chest, in his throat….in the breath he exhaled on her skin. But he swallowed the words and pressed a kiss into the nape of her neck. It was his kryptonite. _She_ was his kryptonite.

It was the perfect beginning to a perfect evening.

To Be Continued in Chapter 13

* * *

Author's Note

Happy Holidays, Readers, and a very Merry Christmas to all who are celebrating. I hope that you are feeling happy, healthy and loved during this special season. Thank you so much for the gift of your support and friendship throughout the year. It's priceless!

This chapter was originally supposed to go through the end of Cotillion, but alas, holiday prep left me with little writing time, so more story coming in the new year!

Do you have any suggestions or predictions for Cotillion? Any thoughts on this chapter? Click the review button and let me know. Reviews make great last-minute gifts!

Thanks to Chrys1130 for always talking fic with me.

Holiday hugs and Upper East Side dreams!

Xoxo


	13. Chapter 13

_Last time in the Kissverse: Despite the fact she still couldn't say those three little words, Blair and Chuck joyfully reunited and spent Christmas together. Bart and Lily announced their engagement. Nate returned the heart charm Blair had given him when they were together, and Chuck saw the exchange. He decided to make Blair's Cotillion the perfect night for her._

Chapter 13

The first surprise was waiting at the curb: an intimate carriage for two pulled by a dapple gray horse.

Blair gasped in delight. It was the perfect match for them, from the brilliant white spokes on the wheels to the black canopy cover and red velvet seat. She felt almost giddy as Chuck helped her into the carriage. She could feel the warmth of his splayed hand supporting the small of her back, even through the damask silk of her gown and his Cotillion gloves. The warmth went straight to her heart.

"How did you know? How did you do this?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I may have stolen your scrapbook," he confessed sheepishly.

It filled her with an even bigger sense of awe, this secret knowledge that perhaps only she knew: Chuck Bass was a romantic. And he was hers.

"Thank you." She leaned in to give him a kiss. Even after their lips separated, their gazes still held and their gloved fingers were still intertwined. "Chuck, I…"

They were never to know what she was going to say, because at that very moment, the carriage suddenly came to an abrupt stop and the horse gave a pitiful cry.

"What's going on?" Chuck asked.

"Looks like the horse has come up lame, sir," was the coachman's reply. He was already off his seat and down inspecting the gray's leg.

Soon, the air was peppered with curses. "This useless nag! His whole leg from knee to fetlock is swollen."

Chuck and Blair exchanged concerned looks.

There was further inspection by the coachman…then more swearing.

Chuck frowned. "Shall we call for another carriage?"

The coachman snorted. "There's no way he can pull anything, even his own weight."

Blair looked crestfallen and Chuck immediately pulled out his phone and began punching digits. "Arthur, we are in need of some assistance…."

The coachman became even angrier at the prospect of losing a precious fare and generous tip. "I can't believe this is happening again!"

"Again?" Blair looked alarmed.

"Yes, it's the third time in as many months," he confessed.

"Perhaps the horse just needs some time to rest and recuperate," Blair ventured.

The coachman snorted. "We may be on the Upper East Side, honey, but this is a working horse and I'm a working man. If I don't eat, he doesn't eat."

Blair looked imploringly at Chuck, who sighed. He knew what he had to do.

"How much for the horse?"

"Sir?"

"How much for the horse?" he repeated. "It appears that the two of you are not, perhaps, the best professional fit. I wish to take this horse off your hands."

The coachman still looked dubious but named a figure that made Chuck's eyebrows raise and Blair gasp.

"That's what horses are going for these days?" Chuck may have been young, but he wasn't stupid.

"Well," the coachman grudgingly admitted, "not just the horse. I'd need to get another horse and have money to live on until I do."

"I respect that you're a businessman…," Chuck drawled.

"Look, if you don't want to buy the nag, it's no skin off my nose." He squeezed the gray's leg again and it let out what sounded like a cross between a whimper and a whinny.

Tears welled in Blair's eyes.

Chuck dialed Arthur again. "Arthur, our plans have changed. Just bring the limo to the park. And call a 24-hour vet that specializes in horses and can transport one to their facilities." Then he whipped out his wallet and paid the coachman, adding a tip and funds for a tow truck to remove the carriage. "Here's my card. Stop by tomorrow afternoon and a check will be cut for you for the horse."

The coachman was suddenly more cheerful and Blair jumped down from the carriage to go to the horse's head. Soon, she'd removed her opera gloves and was gently stroking him, forelock to muzzle. The horse was eating it all up like sugar cubes.

Chuck gave a wry grin. He'd saved Cotillion for his girl…and now she was nuzzling a horse.

* * *

After the chaos settled, Chuck and Blair were happily ensconced in the back of the limo and on their way.

"I'm sorry your carriage didn't work out," he whispered into her ear.

"Don't be. This is more our style. We've made some pretty good memories in this limo, you know."

And then he was kissing her again.

She broke off the kiss and looked into his eyes. "Chuck, I—I need to tell you something."

He waited patiently…or what passed for patience with Chuck Bass.

"I want to thank you for what you did back there. For the horse. I mean, I know it was for me."

He sighed. That was not what he was expecting. "Anything for you," he said lightly.

She smiled. "There's something I want to give you." She drew a gray velvet-covered box out of her evening bag and placed it in his hands.

Chuck looked down, almost hesitant to open the box. Was Blair finally going to him her heart?

"Well, open it!" she encouraged with a touch of impatience.

His fingers pried open the cover and there, on a bed of white satin was…not the heart charm he'd been expecting. Two platinum cufflinks monogrammed with a stylized, intertwined C and B reflected the light shining through the moon roof above.

"I had them custom made for you. Do you like them?" She was staring at him with expectant eyes and a wide smile.

"Of course," he murmured, still trying to process what he was seeing. It was a lovely gift, one he would have been very happy to receive at any other time. Right now, it simply felt like a consolation prize.

"Are you surprised?"

"Oh, yes, definitely." She had no idea how much.

"Let's get these on you." She removed her gloves and began fumbling with his cuffs, and his fingers automatically reached out to help her switch out the accessories. Their fingers laced as Blair sat back to admire their handiwork.

She turned back to him with a whisper, "Chuck…I just want you to know that I-."

He was never to know what she was going to say because they pulled up at the curb outside the Palace. Cotillion was ready to begin.

* * *

The delay with the carriage had caused them to miss dinner, but they were just in time for the debutantes to line up for their presentation.

Anticipation was in the air and the excitement was palpable. Chuck could see it in the smile on Blair's face and in the grip of her fingers on his arm.

Since the debutantes were being presented in alphabetical order, Blair was sandwiched between Serena and Nelly Yuki. She was thrilled that she and Serena were being presented together; they had practically raised each other, as Serena liked to point out.

She and Chuck were less thrilled that Dan was Serena's escort. Dan looked every bit as awkward and uncomfortable with the company as he did in his suit. He seemed somewhat detached from their conversation, only making occasional pompous comments about the archaic institution of Cotillion and visibly cringing whenever Chuck called Serena "sis," which only encouraged Chuck to do so more often.

The final straw came when Dan grumbled that the event was "a glorified livestock auction with girls being paraded like prize cattle."

Blair gave him a withering glare. "This is about social grace and tradition. Not that I expect you to understand, since the only time-honored tradition your family has is Sunday morning waffles. For Serena and me, this about our history and our future."

Dan wisely fell silent.

It would've been so nice to have Nate as part of their quartet, Blair thought. She and Chuck would have to collaborate on a way that could be encouraged in the future. Just the thought of a shared scheme made her feel all fluttery inside.

Blair was so captivated with her little "how to dispatch Dan" fantasy that she hadn't realized that Dan and Serena had moved up as the line advanced. Nelly Yuki had, however, and stepped forward…right onto the train of Blair's gown.

There was a loud ripping noise that seemed to echo through the room. Blair gasped in horror and pitched forward, almost falling face first. She might have, had Chuck not caught her with one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder. There was a second tearing sound as the gigantic bow accent came off in his hand.

And then everything got quiet as they stood staring at each other.

"Blair, I'm so sorry…," Nelly floundered for the right words to say that to the horrified Queen B.

Blair looked like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Chuck was rubbing circles on her lower arm in an effort to calm her, but such half-Bass attentions were clearly not enough to relax the Queen tonight.

"What's the matter, Blair? Are you worried this is going to affect your value at market?" Dan's attempt at wit was sadly unappreciated by the company.

Chuck reflexively started to let go of Blair's arm and made a move toward Dan and suddenly it was Blair's turn to soothe her date.

Serena looked from her friends to her escort in horror. "Dan, please!"

"Oh, alright," Dan huffed as he reluctantly surrendered. "Blair, Jenny is here somewhere. Find her. She can help you."

"Presenting Miss Isabel Coates, escorted by…"

"Come on," Chuck grasped Blair's gloved hand. "Let's get this fixed."

Before long, Jenny was located, threats and bribes were issued and sartorial salvation was achieved, with Chuck and Blair back in line just as Serena was called.

Blair gave a last, nervous glimpse at the mirrored column on the wall. Jenny had done a good job reattaching the train and mending the tear, but the gown looked somewhat different without the shoulder bow. "How do I look?"

"Perfect," Chuck whispered against her ear.

"It's not too bare without the bow, is it?"

"The better to show off your jewels, my dear." Chuck traced a finger over the Erickson Beamon necklace, his fingertip lightly skimming her collar bone. "And this perfect neck…." His lips followed suit.

She smiled then. "I—I…."

"Miss Blair Cornelia Waldorf, escorted by Charles Bass. Blair is the daughter of Harold and Eleanor Waldorf…."

And all was forgotten. Blair was out in society on the arm of the only person who mattered.

* * *

Young couples spun and pirouetted and waltzed across the parquet floor under the glittering lights of the elaborate chandeliers above them.

It was a scene set for romance.

Wrapped tightly in Chuck Bass's arms, Blair felt lighter than air. She was happy, so happy. She only dimly heard the music in the background, but snatches of lyrics came to her ears.

 _Got a secret, can you keep it? Swear this one you'll save…_

Her eyes locked on Chuck's and the corners of her mouth turned up in a little smile. "I have a secret," she confessed.

"As do I, but it's a surprise for later, so…you first."

She let out a breath she'd been holding. "Good, because this really won't wait another second longer…"

 _Better lock it, in your pocket…_

She moved closer, so that her lips were mere millimeters from his… "Chuck, I—"

He moved even closer. They were sharing the same space, almost breathing the same air.

She took a breath in, as if to summon the words, before moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue and slowly letting the air in her lungs escape.

She was ready. She could do this.

He was ready. She was finally going to do this. Her little preparations were adorable, so much so that he wanted to bypass the waiting, place his lips on hers and kiss her senseless in front of everyone on the dance floor.

But more than that, more than air even, he wanted, needed to hear those words.

The anticipation was palpable for both of them.

Her lips parted….

And the words died on them.

 _Take this one to the grave…_

Chuck was struggling to understand what was happening when he realized there was a steady tapping on his shoulder.

"May I cut in?" Carter Baizen's smile was as sincere as if he were selling snake oil.

Chuck had never wanted to hit someone so much in his life. Slowly, reluctantly, he let go of Blair's waist and took a step back.

"C'mon, Bass, quit monopolizing the prettiest girl here. Maybe she wants to dance with someone without two left feet for a change?" Carter turned his smile on Blair.

She did not return his grin. "Carter," she greeted from between clenched teeth, as her eyes followed Chuck's retreating form.

Carter glanced after him before turning back to Blair and their dance. "I must say, Waldorf, I was surprised to hear you've been slumming it with Bass after all these years as Archibald's #1 fangirl. It baffles me how someone could settle for bass after they've had Beluga."

"The identity of my escort is none of your business. Where, pray tell, is your date?"

"Hazel? Oh, she's off powdering her nose or her ass or something. So I thought I'd come keep you company. I can stay, of course, if you'd like a man instead of those two boys."

"You're an insect, Carter." Loathing dripped from every syllable coming from Blair's mouth. "When is this dance going to be over? When Chuck comes back…."

Carter looked around breezily and gave her a snide smile. "Are you sure he's coming back? I don't see him…."

Sure enough, she could no longer see Chuck anywhere on the dance floor.

Blair's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's going on here?"

Just then, there was an altercation at the edge of the ballroom and it looked like two stocky teens were trying to drag Chuck to an exit.

Blair promptly disengaged herself from Carter's arms and headed towards her beleaguered date. Across the room, Nate had seen what was happening and decided to come to the rescue.

While Chuck alone may have struggled with two assailants, adding Nate to the mix totally changed the game. Some punches were thrown and the other guys were mostly subdued by the time security came rushing over to break up the fight.

By that time, a crowd of onlookers had formed and were getting as close to the action as possible. Too close, perhaps, because, in a final spurt of adrenaline, one of the guys threw a left hook at Chuck, who deftly dodged it, sending the striker straight into the punch bowl. As if in slow motion, the bowl went flying, its contents spraying like a fountain and narrowly missing Chuck and Blair. The majority of the fruity beverage landed directly on Nelly Yuki, who screamed as if she were being murdered. Covered from head to toe in red liquid, Nelly was indeed a sight.

Suddenly, Blair couldn't help it. Her look of concern turned into a small, sly smirk that grew into a blinding smile. Whoever said karma was a bitch hadn't met Blair Waldorf yet.

The smile was short lived. Nelly was led away by concerned friends. Security removed the two troublemakers, who were not Cotillion guests, while Chuck and Nate were asked to leave for their part in the melee. Chuck persuaded the chairwoman to allow Nate to stay since he had simply been coming to the aid of a friend, as a gentleman should do.

Chuck looked at Blair, expecting her to be furious that her long-awaited Cotillion was ending on such a note, but she merely took his hand and said nothing. As they walked off the parquet floor, they spied a strange pair standing at the edge of the room: Carter and Prince Theodore, deep in conversation. Chuck and Blair's eyes met with shared understanding—this explained so much!

Nate and Serena walked out with them to say goodbye, much to the chagrin of Dan and Penelope. The four of them looked like an army, or a pantheon of avenging gods and goddesses, far removed from the mortals still on the dance floor.

There were handshakes and hugs while Chuck and Blair waited on Arthur to pull the limo around.

When Nate spotted the metallic glint on Chuck's cuff, he had to ask: "So she gave you the heart charm, huh?"

He was surprised when Chuck shook his head and looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

Blair looked at them both in confusion before proudly showing off the cufflinks to her friends.

"I can't believe they kicked you out, Chuck. This is Bart's hotel." Serena was offended on Chuck's behalf.

"Well, they can't actually kick me out of the hotel, just Cotillion. Blair and I think we know who was responsible for that little stunt; they will not go unpunished."

They exchanged a look that made Serena and Nate fear for the fools who had chosen to take on the formidable pair.

* * *

When they were settled into the limo again, Chuck turned to Blair. "Do you want to go home now? Or would you like your surprise?"

"Depends. Is this a pleasant surprise? Because I've had enough of the other variety tonight."

"Are you brave enough to find out?" He raised a dark brow in her direction.

"You can't scare me, Bass. Bring it on!"

Chuck lowered the partition. "Arthur, take us to the pier, please."

"It" turned out to be Bart Bass's yacht.

Blair was thrilled. "Chuck, I had no idea your father had a yacht!"

"He doesn't take it out often," Chuck admitted.

"He should; it's glorious!" Blair settled into one of the cushioned bench seats on the deck with a shiver.

"Are you cold?" Chuck slipped off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders before slipping his arm around her waist. "Better?"

She nodded.

Satisfied they were ready to proceed, he gave a nod to the captain, who slowly pulled away from the pier and into New York Harbor.

"Does this yacht have a name? I didn't see one on the side."

"My father never christened it. He's not really the sentimental type."

Blair laughed then. "You don't say?" Then she got serious. "If it were yours, what would you call it?"

"Butterflies," he whispered in her ear and her breath hitched. "What better to launch a ship?"

They sailed leisurely around Manhattan, enjoying views of the skyline and the Statue of Liberty. Blair gasped with delight as they sailed under the Brooklyn Bridge, which looked magical under the moonlight and shining lights of the city. Before they realized it, an hour slipped away.

They were out in the open ocean water when the captain announced he was dropping anchor until morning. A crewperson arrived shortly thereafter with a plate of hors d'oevres and desserts, including her favorite macarons and his favorite eclairs. A bottle of Dom Perignon 1995 was decanted into crystal champagne flutes.

"This is perfect. I'm starving!" Blair exclaimed, removing her gloves for their midnight feast.

"I'm sorry we missed dinner…and your carriage ride got pre-empted…and your dress was damaged…and I got tossed out of Cotillion. Does that cover everything?"

"Chuck, it's not your fault," Blair protested.

"I just wanted you to have your perfect night," he confessed.

"I did!"

He wanted to believe her, he really did, but he couldn't help feeling that if it had truly been the perfect night, she would told him she loved him or given him her heart charm. His hand unconsciously went to the platinum cufflinks. Clearly, something was missing.

This was stupid. He was Chuck Bass. She was here with him now; surely that was all that should matter. Three words and a piece of jewelry should not matter. But his heart remained unconvinced. The corners of his mouth turned down.

A shadow crossed Blair's face. "Chuck…when Nate asked about the heart charm…your face changed. Did you…were you expecting me to give that to you tonight?"

Oh, God, had he been so obvious that now she knew? "Blair, I saw him give it back to you in the hall, and I heard you say you had plans for it. But…," he cleared his throat, "it's nothing. Please don't worry about it." He tried to sound unconcerned, but worried he was failing miserably.

Blair frowned. "Chuck, why would you even want that? When I gave it to Nate, you—you laughed at me." She sounded embarrassed by the memory. "You said it was a silly piece of little girl's jewelry."

"Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was just jealous and wished someone cared that much for me." He couldn't look at her as he said it.

"Someone does care that much for you. More than that, even." She touched his face. "That's why I don't want to give you that charm."

God, it hurt so much to hear the words aloud that he could hardly breathe.

"I do have plans for that charm. It's a keepsake of a time when I was a little girl dreaming about what it would be like to be in love. It's my past. And I put it where it belongs: at the bottom of my jewelry box with other mementos.

"Chuck, I don't want to give you a piece of metal shaped like a heart; I want to give you my heart. And I don't want to give you my past; I want to give you our future. That's why I gave you the cufflinks." She traced the initials engraved on them. "C and B. For Chuck and Blair. The letters are intertwined, because we're together now."

He still wasn't looking in her direction.

"Chuck, will you please turn around?" Her hand was on his shoulder. "I would really like you to be looking at me when I tell you what I've been trying to tell you all night…and for a long time now: I love you."

He was still, so still she wasn't quite sure if he had heard the words.

"Define love." He turned back around and looked into her eyes.

"It's us. What we have is a great love. It's butterflies, it's chemistry, it's friendship on fire. You are the other part of me. You make me happier than I've ever been. You also have the power to destroy me, and it's terrifying. Which is why when you said those three words, I couldn't say them back. It wasn't because I didn't feel them; it was because I feel them so much. I tried not to say them, but I can't, I can't not say them."

"Say them again," he ordered, standing to his feet.

"I love you."

He kissed her then, until they could both barely breathe.

"I think we should go below deck now," Chuck suggested.

She was all too happy to agree.

When they descended the stairs and walked into the stateroom, Blair sharply inhaled. It was filled with candles burning low and flowers all around the room.

He had created a perfect haven, a perfect night, just for them.

"I love you, Blair." The words were whispered into her neck and sealed with a kiss, as if he were imprinting her with the words.

"Chuck Bass, I love you, I love you so much." There was no mistaking whom she loved, whom she desired, what she wanted and needed.

It was a ritual that was to be performed many times that night and countless times after.

They had defined their feelings, now it was time to define their future.

And it all began with a kiss that was the very best kind of mistake.

~ _fin_

Author's Note:

Thank you, readers, for going on this journey with me. I appreciate your loyalty, support and kind reviews. Special shout-out to Kananox, whose kindness really touched my heart. I truly appreciate you all.

A big "thank you" to Chrys1130 and Shrk22. This chapter was tough for me to write. I knew what I wanted to happen, but getting it organized and written down in words was another matter.

What's next on the horizon? I really want to finish _One Secret I'll Never Tell_ and I plan to continue writing. These last few months have been hard on our fandom, and it's my sincere hope that this story reminds you of what you love about the show and its characters.

XOXO


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